Special Investigations Division: Odyssey
by Loki's Son
Summary: The birth pangs of the SID revolve around an investigation of an illegal Gulag housing dissidents from around the Federation. An ex-Maquis officer leads the mission in order to redeem himself.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or its related properties. All such rights are the property of CBS/Paramount. I do, however, own the intellectual rights to certain original characters featured in this story. Please treat them with the same respect that you would canon characters.**

**The characters Brin Macen, Lisea Danan, and T'Kir are heavily featured in the story collection **_**Vignettes featuring Ro Laren**_** that can also be found on FanFiction. If you enjoy their exploits perhaps you'll check out the other repositories of their tales.**

**Disclaimer: I originally wrote this story in 1999. Not only was it a different century but my writing style was just forming up. You'll see drastic improvements if you continue to follow the **_**Special Investigation Division**_** series as I introduce it to FanFiction.**

**Other than that, thanks for checking out my work and I hope you enjoy! **

* * *

Brin Macen leaned back into the comforts of his command chair. Macen was flying a Starfleet scoutship. The single occupant design of Starfleet's latest creation suited Macen's tastes. There was only so much a person could be expected to say during a three-day warp voyage.

He chuckled at his last thought. He supposed it came from a cultural bias. El-Aurians were known as listeners, not orators. Even so, Macen was forced to admit that he took the stereotype to a bit of an extreme.

He unzipped the collar of his uniform blouse. He was wearing the blue Sciences departmental colours again. Before that, he'd spent several years out of any form of Starfleet uniform. He was surprised at how little that had bothered him.

He'd spent the last eighty years of his life serving Starfleet. He'd even received command of his own survey vessel. He'd surrendered all of that when Admiral Nechayev and Starfleet Intelligence offered him the chance to infiltrate the Maquis. Macen had been sympathetic towards the Maquis' cause since their inception due to his people's history with Borg. Any forced assimilation of another society disturbed Macen.

One of his primary motives in joining Starfleet had been to help dissuade any such efforts that may arise within the Federation. He had co-operated with Nechayev for the first year of his mission. After fighting alongside the self-labelled "freedom fighters", Macen found that they fought for the same principles he believed in.

Macen's "defection" was labelled as treason, a charge that neither Starfleet nor the Federation took lightly. Both Starfleet and the Cardassians hunted the Maquis and, consequently, Macen. He finally surrendered to Starfleet when the Dominion aided the Cardassians in finally crushing the resistance movement. He was able to deliver his ship, crew, and a handful of other survivors to Starfleet's unsympathetic hands.

Macen expected to stand trial. That trial never came. He was offered a choice, he could assist Intelligence with a new operation or he could face imprisonment. The offer was loaded by the reduction of sentence by those that had served under him as well as the conditional pardon of Macen's first mate and fellow Starfleet renegade, Lisea Danan.

Filled with both concern and regret over convincing Danan to join him on his mission to the Maquis, Macen accepted Starfleet's deal. Macen and Danan were reinstated, reduced by one rank. That fact had been irrelevant to them. The other stipulation of the deal was the hardest: they were to serve the war effort at separate assignments _without_ the privilege of communications with one another.

Macen soon discovered why he'd been selected for the deal. Starfleet had enlisted the aid of Angosia's biologically enhanced commandos. They were to be utilised on hit and run missions behind enemy lines. Those enemy lines were now the same territories that Macen had fought in for the last several years.

The mission rankled Macen. It gave the Federation access to the very bio-enhancement techniques that had cost Angosia their admittance into the Federation. The former commandos were thrown away rather than cured. Macen _knew_ that it had cost the lives of many soldiers that had wanted nothing more than to lay down their arms forever. The war was now concluded. Macen's mission was concluded as well

As he hurtled through the starless void of warp space, he wondered if he'd ever forgive himself for either betrayal. As he'd once told Ro Laren, the dead have no qualms. It is the living that have to deal with the loss and guilt. The soldiers of Angosia and the Maquis rested at last. Macen envied them.

* * *

Macen awoke as the scout's sensors chimed an alarm. He tilted his seat back into a fully upright position. He was detecting two vessels occupying the same system he was travelling through. One of the power signatures was Romulan. Macen was thousands of kilometres inside of Federation space.

Ally, or no ally, neither side had ever renegotiated the treaty establishing the Neutral Zone. The Romulan Warbird's presence was technically an act of war. Macen dropped his ship out of warp in order to investigate. The second ship was a _Miranda_ class starship. The Romulans were obviously working with Starfleet. Macen could continue on his way.

The ship shuddered from a phaser blast. Macen was grateful he'd raised shields reflexively upon leaving warp. He checked his sensors. The Warbird was cloaking. While cloaked, she couldn't fire her weapons, effectively removing her from the fight.

The damned Starfleet vessel continued to blast away at him. His scout's manoeuvrability was all that was keeping him alive. He went to warp six. With luck, the starship wouldn't follow.

_So much for luck_, he thought as he watched his sensors. He tried raising them on the comm, "This is the _U.S.S. Herodotus_ to unidentified Starfleet vessel. Hold your fire. I repeat, hold your fire. I'm a friendly." Another blast rocked the scout.

"I'll take that as a 'sorry, but I'm not friendly'." He muttered under his breath.

The starship still wasn't sending off an identifying code. All Starfleet ships had transponders built into them that transmitted a ship's ID when queried. Someone had disabled this ship's. Either it was stolen, or her captain was up to something that he didn't anyone to know about.

Macen plotted his course for the system's primary. His only hope was to lure the larger ship into following him. He hoped that the starship's greater power and speed had lulled her captain into overconfidence. That error would be his only chance at survival.

Warnings sounded as he neared the sun. He threw all of his auxiliary power into the shields. Any system that wasn't needed for this manoeuvre was deactivated to add power to the shields and environmental systems. Even with all of that, the temperature was rising swiftly.

He edged his ship down further and further into the heliosphere. Without his shields, his ship would have melted already. Macen was coated in sweat. The cockpit was a sweltering sauna.

He'd already shucked his uniform jacket and his blouse. He retained the undershirt only because he needed all his attention to prepare for the next manoeuvre. He double-checked the distance between his scout and the _Miranda_.

He was low enough, and they were close enough. He fired two photon torpedoes towards the primary's core. He threw all of his ship's thrust upward. He needed to escape before the torpedoes detonated, igniting a solar flare.

He shunted all the extra power he'd allocated to the environmental controls to the warp drive. He needed all the thrust he could manage. The _Miranda_, unable to manoeuvre as quickly as the smaller craft was only now trying to change direction. _Too late_, Macen thought as the torpedoes detonated.

The detonations caused a chain reaction. The star belched out a tremendous amount of heat, gas, and particles. The rising inferno squarely caught the _Miranda_ class starship. She was engulfed in forces no starship had been designed to withstand.

Macen's scout cleared the star's gravity well and sped away. His course was vectored away from the flare. It lashed out into space, but claimed no further victims. Macen collapsed back into his chair and tried releasing the breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

He began to re-route power back to its standard operational norms. His next activity was to re-set his course for sector zero-zero-one. He had an appointment with Starfleet Command. With all of that done, he decided he needed a drink. He would prepare his report in the incident after that… and a shower.

* * *

"Spacedock Traffic Control, this is the _Herodotus_. Requesting docking billet." Macen spoke into the comm.

"Roger that, _Herodotus_. Please stand-by to surrender your helm to Traffic Control." A female voice instructed him.

"Copy, Traffic Control. Ready on your command."

"Transfer on my mark. Three…two…one…mark."

Macen felt the slightest shudder as Traffic's computers took control of his vessel. Although they knew the exact location of every ship in and around the massive station, they had no feel for flying. Turns were made according to programmed standards and lacked any grace or style. He supposed he shouldn't be so picky, but Macen had always enjoyed spaceflight. The nuances of it fascinated him.

Spacedock's computers brought him into the massive dockyard within the station's confines. Dozens of Starfleet ships lay moored to the station. He glanced to his right as he passed a class of starship he didn't recognise.

"Computer," he spoke to get the ship's attention, "identify Starfleet vessel off our starboard side."

"According to Starfleet records, that vessel is the _NX- 59599 U.S.S. Odyssey_." The computer's female voice informed him. The name struck a resonant chord within him. The ship he'd commanded during his tenure with the Maquis had been named _Odyssey_. She'd been a _Blackbird_-class scout built for Starfleet in 2319. She'd been retired from service in the mid-2260's. Retired until Macen took her for himself. Starfleet had confiscated the ship upon his capture.

"What class is she?" Macen asked in fascination.

"She is a _Hydra-_class starship."

Macen gazed at the ship in wonder. It was essentially a dagger with two warp nacelles serving as the hilt. The new _Akira_-class borrowed a lot from it. The craft was sleek and dangerous in appearance. She bristled with phaser emitters and torpedo launchers. She had the power to go where she pleased, and the speed to get there as soon as she wanted.

"Who's her commander?" he asked wistfully.

"Starfleet records do not contain that information."

Maven sighed. He'd thrown away any chance of reclaiming command. He only regretted it now gazing upon this ship. His record would forfeit any chances of obtaining another command.

The scout continued on through the dockyard. It began to slow as it neared a docking pylon. The scout landed atop of it. The pylon's clamp arose and fastened itself to the underbelly of the scout.

"You are cleared to disembark." A male voice came over the comm. Macen scowled for a brief second. He'd preferred the female's voice.

He transmitted the ship's logs to Spacedock's computer network. From there, it would be transferred to Command. He put the ship's systems on stand-by. He rose out of the cockpit and descended the ladder that led to the main portion of the ship.

He retrieved his duffel and his padds from the storage locker he had placed them in. He slung the duffel over his shoulder and proceeded to yet another ladder. He checked to see of anyone was below the open hatch. Seeing that there wasn't, he threw his bag down the open hole. Macen climbed down the ladder to find a very attractive human female waiting at the base of the ladder.

She thrust out her hand, "Hello, you must be Commander Macen."

"So they tell me." He replied as he took her hand and shook it. She had a firm grip. He broke into a lop-sided grin, "Can I ask your name, or has that been classified 'top secret' by SI?"

She gave him a strange look that he didn't understand before answering, "I'm Ensign D'art."

"And you came down here just to tell me that?" he asked teasingly.

She broke into a warm smile, "I'm supposed o escort you to Admiral Nechayev's office."

Macen rolled his eyes, "What? She doesn't trust me to show up for my 'appointment'?"

D'art shook her head, "I don't know anything about that. I'm just supposed to make sure you are on your way to the Admiral's office, and then I'm supposed to transport your belongings to your next assignment."

Macen looked at her quizzically, "You wouldn't happen to know what that assignment would be?"

"I was told you would learn that at your meeting." D'art informed him.

"Thank you anyway." He replied dejectedly. As he walked away, D'art overheard him mutter, "It's going to be a garbage scow." D'art lifted his duffel with an amused smile on her face.

Macen headed for the closest transporter station. He didn't have far to walk. He strode up to the Master Chief manning the unit's controls. The Chief eyed him with a disdain allowed only to Admiral's and Master Chief's.

"Can I help you?" the Chief asked.

Macen handed him a padd, "Orders to report directly to Admiral Nechayev's office."

"All right. Step onto the pad. I'll transport you to Starfleet HQ." The Chief replied sourly.

"Sorry, Chief." Macen replied, "That won't be good enough."

"Excuse me?" the Chief asked incredulously.

"My orders _specifically_ state that I am to appear _directly_ at the Admiral's office after disembarking form my ship. I'm off my ship, and now I need to be there." Macen informed crisply.

The Chief glanced over the orders, "Yes they do. Point for you." He lifted his head and met Macen's eyes, "You also know that it's a breach of regulations to beam you there."

"Regulation 134, paragraph C allows the use of transporters directly into HQ, if specifically ordered to do so."

The Chief shook his head, "Do you know what they'll do to me?"

"Give you a commendation for following orders properly and expediently." Macen smiled, "Then next time they'll know better than to write their orders this way."

The Chief broke into a mischievous grin, "That they will." He activated the transporter. He set the destination co-ordinates. He glanced up, "I wish I could see this."

Macen smiled wickedly, "You'll undoubtedly hear about it later." With that he dissolved into a glimmer of energy. Macen re-appeared standing atop Nechayev's desk.

"Sweet Jesus!" Nechayev shouted as she came out her chair.

Macen smiled and leapt off of the desk. Several Security officers burst into the room with their phasers drawn and ready. Macen put his hands up as they shouted for him to do. Nechayev waved them away from the wall she leaned against, clutching her heart.

The disgruntled Security officers holstered their sidearms and withdrew from the room. Nechayev returned to her chair, still slightly shaken. _She is recovering swiftly_, Macen thought. He accepted the chair she waved him towards.

"Thank you." He said with a victorious grin.

"Stop being so smug." Nechayev snapped, "That's an order."

Macen shrugged, "That's another one I'll have to refuse to obey."

Nechayev rubbed the bridge of her nose, "Your stubbornness is going to be the death of me." She stabbed a finger at him, "And of your career."

"I didn't know you cared." Macen snorted.

"Brin," she sighed, "You're one of the best operatives I ever had, and the best damn analyst I've ever seen. I can't always protect you. Don't throw what's left of your career away needlessly."

"Every insubordinate act I've ever committed has been deliberated and calculated before hand." He explained.

"You're an excellent tactician, but you're a lousy strategist." Nechayev commented. "Your methods generally alienate every potential ally you have regarding your position." Macen shrugged. Nechayev shook her head sadly.

"You would've been a flag officer by now if you'd just co-operated." She explained.

His eyes grew hard, "You know that I don't want to be a flag officer. I have no political ambitions."

"Yes, you do." Nechayev sneered, "You want to found the Federated State of Brin Macen. You want the freedom to do whatever you want, and the rest of us be damned."

He stared at her coldly and she smiled, "You see, I do know you."

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"I want to offer you your own command." She informed him.

Macen's eyes bulged in disbelief, "My own what?"

"I need you to take command of a ship and investigate something for me."

"I knew there'd be a price." Macen muttered.

"Of course." She admitted candidly, "There's always a price."

"What's the investigation?" he asked sullenly.

"You already know something of it." Nechayev said cryptically, Macen's right eyebrow rose. "It involves that rendezvous you happened upon."

"I take it this isn't the first time a Starfleet ship has been caught meeting with a Romulan ship within Federation borders?" he asked archly.

"No." she admitted in exasperation, "We've received reports of such things throughout the war. Your encounter was the first where one of our ships turned up missing."

"Which ship was it?"

"The _Slipstream_." Nechayev noted Macen's lack of recognition of her name. "She was a reserve vessel called into wartime service."

"Who was her captain?"

"A Lt. Commander Herris was supposed to be patrolling the border near Tholian space."

"How'd they end up that close to the Romulan border, then?" Macen asked, rolling the possibilities around in his mind.

"Exactly." Nechayev concurred, "They should have been dozens of light-years away instead of only a half-dozen."

"What other information is there?"

Nechayev's sharp features grew dark, "There have been reports from sources inside the Romulan Empire that claim there are Federation prisoners held be the Romulans."

"Where?" Macen asked sharply.

"In the Beta Quadrant."

Macen sighed. That meant it was on the opposite side of the Empire from the Neutral Zone. The area further from the galactic core was the Klingon Empire. Corewards, it was space that had been charted, but not yet affiliated with the Federation. That way was faster, but far riskier.

"I see you realise the implications." Nechayev nodded in approval, "Then you also realise that we also need to operate with the utmost discretion."

"Have you any leads as to who the Starfleet insider is?"

"Or _are_." Nechayev corrected miserably, "We finally rid Starfleet of all the Changelings and then _this_ has to happen."

Macen understood. The Changeling infiltration of Starfleet had been one of the darkest moments in Federation history. Everyone was a suspect. Spouses and families turned to one another with suspicion in their eyes.

"We think a group known only as Section Thirty-One may be involved." Nechayev told him, "A young doctor out at Deep Space Nine has been badgering my office with stories of an ultra-secret conspiracy group operating within the Federation."

"Have you listened?" Macen growled. He'd had previous experience with Section 31. He'd stolen his scoutship, and several others, from them.

Nechayev's eyes met Macen's. She saw the bitter fury blazing in them. She hesitated. She reconsidered what she originally planned to tell him.

"Yes." She admitted.

For a moment, she feared that Macen may come over the desk to physically harm her, "Have you done anything about it?" he snarled.

"I can't!" she snarled back, "Not officially."

She sat back in her chair, visibly shedding her anger, "That's why I need you to accept this mission. I need someone I can trust."

"Why me?" he asked with a tinge of bitterness.

"I needed someone that I knew couldn't have been reached by Section Thirty-One. Both Command and Section 31 blacklisted you. They'd sooner kill you then recruit you. You have the skills and the motivation. The combination makes you the perfect choice."

Macen nodded, "Thank you." His eyes grew flinty, "Now, for the real reason?"

Nechayev sighed, "You were my second choice. The first wasn't available."

"Captain Calhoun up to his eyebrows in Thallonian troubles?" Macen retorted

"Precisely." Nechayev admitted, then shrugged, "Besides, I needed to someone who didn't have an already established command."

"It's a new command?" Macen asked, "Are you to send out an untested crew into a situation like this?"

"They are professionals." Nechayev replied with conviction, "It is no more or less than assigning a new captain to a ship."

"What ship is it?" he asked in resignation.

"The _U.S.S. Odyssey_."

Nechayev laughed at the gleam that appeared in his eyes upon hearing that name and then she continued her answer, "She was an early prototype for the _Defiant_-class."

Macen was familiar with the infamous class. The first true warship designed by Starfleet. His eyebrow arched, "A prototype for a prototype?"

She shrugged, "They needed to test the weapons arrays and direct power relays on a familiar hull configuration before trying something new."

"Good point." He conceded.

"You will proceed immediately to the _Odyssey_. The rest of your crew will be boarding within forty-eight hours. After you have everyone aboard, you depart for the Beta Quadrant."

Macen stood to leave, Nechayev motioned for him to wait, "First, you'll be going under the guise of charting unknown sectors in the Beta Quadrant. Second, be sure to change your uniform before you assume command."

Macen shook his head. Nechayev flushed in consternation. She held out her hands to signal that he should express his objections now.

"I'll do it, but on one condition."

Her eyes narrowed and her voice was brittle, "Offers of command are accepted or rejected. They are _not_ negotiated."

"You'll like this one." Macen replied reassuringly, "I won't wear Command departmental colours."

"What?" she snapped, "It's a bloody shirt! Just wear it."

"I'm a Science officer." He replied, "An intelligence analyst to be precise. I have never been Command track. I don't want to be Command track."

"But you want command?" she asked enjoying the irony.

Macen nodded. Nechayev pondered it. It actually didn't matter what department the ranking officer belonged to. All that mattered was that there was a competent commander.

She nodded in acceptance, "Very well." She said in resignation, "Wear whatever uniform you want, as long as its regulation."

Macen's face lit up, flushed with victory. He turned and started for the door. He had reached it when the Admiral called out to him. He turned with a puzzled expression.

"If you won't wear the right colours, at least have the decency to wear the correct rank insignia, _Captain_."

She enjoyed the stunned look on his face as he comprehended what she'd just told him. The look of radiant joy that followed it was priceless. He left after that. Nechayev sat back with a sigh. There weren't very many opportunities for reward in her field. She thoroughly enjoyed the rare moments when she could surprise someone with one of those rare treasures.


	2. Chapter 2

Macen's next stop was a transporter pad. He had himself beamed back to Spacedock. After arriving he proceeded straight towards the pylon the _Odyssey_ was moored to. He had to stop and ask for directions twice.

Having finally arrived, he was then challenged by two Security officers. They refused to let him pass until he could verify his orders. Macen was about to call for Admiral Nechayev when Ensign D'art appeared. She wore a broad smile of amusement when she recognised the plight he was in.

"It's alright Derrico." She assured the officer in charge, "He's the new captain."

"He's wearing Science colours." Derrico protested.

"And I'm going to continue to do so." Macen replied obstinately.

"You can check with Admiral Nechayev's office." D'art assured him, "He's cleared."

"I'll let him pass, under your recognisance." Derrico informed her, "And _then_ I'll contact the Admiral's staff."

"Fine," she replied pleasantly, patting him on the arm. She turned to face Macen, "Would you like a tour, Captain?"

Macen wore a wry expression, "Let me guess, you're part of the crew?"

Her smile grew, "Your Chief Helmsman to be precise."

Macen shook his head, "Figures. You could have told me my assignment earlier, you know."

"And deprive the Admiral of her fun, never!" she replied with mock horror.

"If we've dispensed with the banter," Macen said, turning serious, "maybe you can tell me about this ship as you escort me to the bridge."

D'art's smile became one of pure joy, "I would love to."

As they exited the turbolift onto the bridge, D'art was concluding her lecture, "So when they decided to flesh the ship out and make her operational, they were able to expand the bridge layout, and make it slightly more traditional."

Macen's eyes swept over the layout. It was a design he approved of. The command chair sat alone. Directly in front of it lay the Helm and the Ops consoles. Directly behind the Captain sat the Master Systems' console. To the captain's extreme right lay the Engineering console; the extreme left lay the Tactical console. Between Engineering and Master Systems lay the Environmental controls. Between Tactical and Master Systems lay the Science station. Each station was designed as its own alcove.

"How many officers do we have aboard?" Macen asked.

"About half the crew." D'art answered, 'I flew the ship during some test runs and have stayed with her since. Same holds true for most of Engineering. Everyone else is transferring in."

"Which senior officers are aboard?"

"The Chief Engineer, Science Officer, Chief Tactical, and your truly." She ended with a flourish.

Macen studied his helmsman for a moment. She was graceful and lithe. She had a naturally ebullient personality. Her brunette hair was braided behind her head.

"Who is the Security Chief?"

"You've already met him."

He rolled his eyes, "Derrico?"

She nodded, "Precisely."

"Oh, well…I'm sure we'll get off to a better start later."

"Doubt it."

Macen glowered at her, "And the others?"

"Lt. Commander Garm Tarrik is the Chief Engineer. He's a Tellarite."

"Have something against Tellarites, Ensign?"

She shook her head adamantly, "No, sir. Tarrik's just a little…well you'll see."

"And the Science Officer?" he asked wearily.

"A Trill named…"

"Lisea Danan?" Macen asked.

"You know her?" she asked, startled.

"You could say that." He mused, "Where is she?"

"Down in Astrometrics, helping them calibrate their equipment."

Macen nodded. He had a faraway look in his eyes. D'art didn't want to try to guess what that look entailed. She waited for him to speak.

"Have her join me in my Ready Room." He said at last.

"Aye, sir." D'art replied. From the way he said it, she knew that he didn't expect the conversation to go smoothly. Perhaps the earlier fall-out with Derrico was the least of the new Captain's problems.

Macen paced nervously in his waiting room. It had been almost three years since he'd last seen Lisea. Their parting had not been a happy one. They'd been forbidden any contact in the interim. He could only wonder how she'd react to his presence now.

His heart momentarily stopped as the door slid open. Lisea stood in the doorway. She hesitated before stepping in. She took a few tentative steps, then stopped and stood silently watching him.

She was very much as Macen remembered. The only change he could see was that the scar on her right cheek had been removed. It had been received when a Galor-class cruiser destroyed the ship they'd been travelling in. A fragment had been imbedded in her cheek. Owing to the Maquis' limited medical resources, the scar had resulted.

"Reporting as ordered." She said slowly.

"It's good to see you again." Macen told her.

A flicker of a smile tugged at her mouth. Macen studied the lines of her face. She possessed a slightly oval face. Her high cheekbones granted her a look of unexpected strength. She had full lips that smiled easily highlighting a strong, angular jaw. Her eyes were the deepest brown, canopied by dark lashes and brows. The irregular spots of her race framed her face and neck.

During their time with the Maquis, Danan had taken to altering her chestnut hair to blonde. She still maintained that practice. Her hair had grown over the last three years. It now floated just above her shoulders, her bangs held back by a black band.

He realised that she was returning his scrutiny. He appeared virtually the same as well. He still wore his red-gold hair short. He meticulously maintained his neatly trimmed goatee. His green-blue eyes still changed colour to reflect whatever he was wearing.

"I didn't know you were aboard." He informed her softly.

"I knew you were being posted here." Lisea admitted, "That's why I requested the assignment."

Macen's eyes bulged in surprise, "You did? How?"

Danan grinned, "Nechayev asked me if I thought you'd accept another command. She explained the mission to me, and I volunteered."

"Really?" Macen asked, not believing his ears.

She'd been standing with her hands behind her back. Now she brought her hands forward, clasping them together, "Brin, I know that we haven't seen each other in three years. I also know that things may be rough between us for a bit. I was wondering if we could move past that?"

He nodded, "I hope so." He broke into a relieved smile, "I thought I'd have to search Starfleet records for weeks to find you."

Her eyes twinkled, "I can't let you be the only one with tricks up your sleeve."

Macen moved from around the desk. He stopped inches from her, "I'm really happy to see you." His voice caught slightly.

"So am I." She choked.

Their embrace was filled with the sadness and lonely despair of their forced separation. It was also filled with the vibrant hope of their reunion and an unspoken pledge to avoid future separations.

* * *

The Chief Medical Officer assigned to the _Odyssey_ came as something of a surprise. Commander Viddan was a Romulan. His parents had defected to the Federation during the latter half of the twenty-third century. Despite the recent alliance with the Empire, many in Starfleet were unwilling to trust Romulans or any one of their lineage. It was especially surprising since the entire mission was essentially a Starfleet Intelligence operation.

Macen shook his hand warmly, "Welcome aboard."

Viddan regarded him with a look characteristic of the aloofness for which Vulcans and Romulans were typified for, "Thank you, Captain. I must confess my sense of relief upon discovering that this vessels commander would not be a human."

"Really?"

"Yes." Viddan replied with disdain, "I have encountered…_difficulties_ with human commanders in the past. It takes another non-human to understand."

"I'm sure it does." Macen replied, fighting the urge to punch his new CMO. He was already certain that Viddan's "difficulties" had far less to due with his ethnicity than with his attitude. Macen forced himself not to inform the Doctor of his opinion.

"I'm sure we'll have ample opportunity to hear about your experiences." He said with feigned interest.

"I look forward to it." Viddan replied with genuine delight.

_I wish I did_, Macen groaned inwardly.

* * *

Twelve hours later, Macen was in the briefing room with Derrico, D'art, Tarrik and Danan. He finally understood the ensign's comments regarding the Chief Engineer. It wasn't that he was a bad sort; it was simply that he smelled. He didn't smell bad. He smelled like mud. A porcine race, Tellarites enjoyed mud baths to moisten their skin. Apparently, Tarrik was fanatical about his hygiene and "bathed" daily.

"Almost all of the crew is aboard and accounted for." Derrico reported, "The primary exceptions being our Exec and our Ops officer."

Macen drummed his fingers together, "Any word on when we can expect them?"

Derrico shook his head. Macen sighed. They were due to ship out in less than thirty-six hours. Both officers were expected to have checked in several hours ago.

"Contact Starfleet Command." Macen ordered, "See if they know anything."

"Aye, sir." Derrico nodded.

"If there's no other business?" Macen asked, no one spoke, "All right then, dismissed."

Derrico and Tarrik were the first out the door, which suited Macen. "Commander Danan, Ensign D'art, a moment of your time?" They returned to their seats.

"Neither Commander Willis nor Lieutenant Margoro will be joining us." He informed them sadly.

"Why not?" D'art asked.

"They're dead." Macen replied flatly.

"What a wonderful way to start the mission." Danan commented dryly, "How did they die?"

"No one's sure." Macen replied sourly, "They both died in 'mysterious' accidents. Willis died in a shuttle accident four hours ago. Margoro drowned in the Pacific Ocean off of Fiji. "

"Are there replacements?" Danan asked.

Macen shook his head, "There's no one available that Nechayev has cleared."

"What's that mean for our mission?" Danan asked, a tinge of desperation in her voice.

"It means," Macen answered, his voice steel, "that you are now the first officer. I am free to recruit an Ops officer 'at my own discretion'."

"Do you have anyone in mind?"

An enigmatic smile crossed Macen's face, "That all depends on if you want to have an adventure or not."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, they were still arguing over Macen's proposal. D'art watched them go at each other with great amusement. She'd originally harboured interest in her new captain after meeting him. That had ended now that she'd seen these two together.

"Are you as nuts as she is?" Danan asked, throwing her hands in the air.

"She's not crazy." Macen argued.

"That's why she's in a mental institution, right?" Danan quipped sarcastically. She turned and stormed to the other side of the room.

D'art turned her head towards Macen to see how he'd reply. His face was a stony masque of rage. It faded by sheer force of will. He took a deep breath.

"Listen, we need someone we can trust." He said, "She's the only qualified person that we know that can't have been corrupted."

"I wouldn't say that." Danan retorted.

Macen's shoulders sagged and his head hung low, "C'mon Lisea, we know her. She can be trusted."

"She tried to kill you." Danan said accusingly, "Have you forgotten that?"

"No." Macen answered, "But I have forgiven."

"You may have," Danan replied harshly, "but I haven't."

Macen shrugged his hands on his hips, "It's the past. I looked up her records. They have no record of any 'incidents' over the last nine months."

Her arms spread wide, "So that means she's cured?"

He shook his head, "No, but it means she's better."

D'art looked at one then the other as though watching a tennis match. Macen and Danan both stopped and stared at her.

"What are you doing?" Danan demanded.

D'art's head jerked back, "I'm just waiting for you two to finish arguing."

"You could put forth an opinion." Danan snapped peevishly.

D'art's hands came up as though she were surrendering, "I don't even know who this T'Kir person is. It's your call."

"No." Macen growled, 'It's my call."

Both Danan and D'art stared at him in mute silence as he spoke, "We're going to release her from the Andes Institute."

Danan glowered at him, "I hope you know what you're doing."

He smiled thinly at her, "I'm about to break a prisoner out of a Rehabilitative Penal Colony and make her a member of this crew."

She rolled her eyes, "Well, as long as you know what you're doing, what the hell?" she threw her hands into the air and made for the door. She stopped before exiting and stabbed an accusing finger at him, "Just so you know, this is _not _the way to regain someone's affections."

She stormed out of the door. Brin stood silently, watching the door slide shut. He turned to look at D'art. She sat in her chair, carefully not making any noise.

Macen gave her a wan smile, "It's a long story."

She gave him an understanding smile, "I gathered as much."

Macen stood for a moment before turning back to D'art, "Ensign?"

"Yes, sir?"

"The meeting's concluded." He informed her gently.

"I thought you might want some assistance planning the break-out." She said eagerly.

Macen gave her a baleful look, "Ensign, you're dismissed."

"Bur, sir…"

He pointed at the door, "Ensign, you're dismissed."

"But…"

"Didn't they teach you what 'dismissed' means at the Academy?" he asked sarcastically, "It means 'leave now, before you get put on report'."

"Aye, sir." She replied crisply.

"I'll contact you and Commander Danan in fifteen minutes and fill you on the plan."

"Aye, sir." She acknowledged and departed.

_She might work out after all,_ Macen mused.

* * *

Thirteen minutes later, they were re-gathered in the briefing room. The table's holo display had recreated a map of the facility. Two sections were highlighted in red, one atop the roof, and one within the facility. Macen pointed at the one within the facility.

"This is T'Kir's room." He explained. "She's being held in Section Seven, Quad Nine, and room thirteen."

Danan leaned closer to the display, resting her chin in her hand, "There are a lot of security posts."

"Coming in from the front door, there are three security stations before reaching the objective." Macen said flatly. His voice carried no emotion. He was in his analytical mode. Nothing but facts mattered to him now.

"Wouldn't it be easier to beam the target out?" D'art asked.

Macen smiled thinly, "The entire facility is shielded by a transport inhibitor." He pointed at the second highlighted section, "The emitter array is located on the roof."

"How do people get in and out then?" Danan asked.

Macen pointed to an area right in front of the complexes main entrance, "That is the only unshielded point in the facility's sphere."

"This makes it easier to screen unwanted guests." Lisea commented.

"The facility is located on a cliff in the Andes." Macen added, "If you're refused admittance, the weather's cold enough to discourage loitering."

"So what's your plan?" Danan asked, pulling herself upright.

"I've arranged the use of a shuttle. We assume orbit over the facility. D'art and I transport down and enter the facility." Macen answered.

"Why her?" Danan asked sharply. From her tone, it would have been easy to assume that the question was spawned form jealousy. Macen knew better. He and Lisea had been partners for years now. They knew each other's methods. A stranger did not have that advantage.

"Because I need someone in the ship overwriting their security systems." Macen replied, "You're a better systems engineer than she is."

Danan nodded agreement, "What happens after you reach T'Kir?"

Macen grinned, "Then D'art and T'Kir will relocate to a designated spot. They will wait there for the transport inhibitor to be deactivated. Once it's down, they'll be transported back to the ship."

"I take it you'll be doing the deactivating." Danan commented dryly.

"It's my plan." Macen replied with a shrug, "The responsibility for sabotage should fall squarely on my shoulders."

Danan's shrug was the slightest movement of her shoulders, "How d'you plan on withdrawing?"

"I'll make for the cliff face." Macen answered.

Danan's eyes went steely, "That's a sheer face. It's a two kilometre drop."

"That's why no one will expect me to go that direction." He said confidently, "Besides, I'll have you in orbit ready to beam me up."

Danan's face shifted expression as she began calculating options.

"Stop it!" Macen intoned darkly, "You won't be rid of me that easily."

She pantomimed a disappointed snap of her fingers. She smiled warmly all the while.

* * *

"Shut up." Danan hissed.

"I can't breathe." D'art complained miserably.

"Quiet." Macen turned in the cockpit and scolded.

"But I can't _breathe_." D'art complained more loudly.

"I'll make that a permanent condition if you don't _shut up_." Danan informed her comrade in an eerie voice.

D'art sighed. She and Danan were in the storage locker of the shuttle _Oberon_. Macen had arranged for the shuttle under the ostensible purpose of practice with the new class of shuttle. They had escorted him into the shuttle, but weren't logged in as occupants. They hid, wrapped in layers of sensor defying blankets.

"We're clear of Spacedock." Macen informed them.

Danan emerged first. She took her station beside Macen. Although she disagreed with the purpose of this mission, she was too much of a professional to let it bother her. Macen was her Captain. He'd made his decision and she would support him in it.

_Although, most of his decisions don't usually include breaking out lunatics,_ she mused.

"I don't care what anyone says," D'art complained bitterly as she extricated herself from the locker, "I am not going back in there."

"Yes, you will." Danan replied without turning around.

"No, I'm not." The Ensign blustered.

Danan turned slowly, her eyes flashing lasers, "Yes, you will. Conscious or unconscious, it doesn't matter to me. You will get back in there when ordered to do so."

"Yes, sir." D'art stammered, plopping down into the nearest seat.

Macen smiled to himself. Danan was the perfect first officer. She knew his command style intimately. She knew when to raise objections, and when to let things lie. Most of all, she knew how to maintain discipline.

"Assuming parking orbit." Macen announced and vacated his seat. He went to the back of the shuttle and programmed a set of co-ordinates into the transporter. Danan went to work at the comm panel. She swiftly accessed the Andes Institute's mainframe. She nodded to Macen as he and D'art stepped onto the small transporter platform.

"Good luck." She said softly.

"Thanks." Macen replied with a laconic grin, "Energise."


	3. Chapter 3

Macen and D'art materialised in a snowdrift. Before them lay the expansive Andes Institute. The view was breathtaking. They could see for hundred of kilometres in every direction.

Macen would have enjoyed spending hours in appreciation of the view, if it hadn't been so bloody cold. He looked over towards D'art. She was suffering more from the change in temperature then he. He motioned towards the Institute.

She nodded dully. Even though Starfleet uniforms were resistant to cold and heat, they had their limits. Although D'art was human, Macen did not where she was from. She obviously had little tolerance for cold.

He helped guide her as they trudged through the snow towards the Institute. As they entered the shield that prevented transporting, they discovered that it had other properties. It also shielded the Institute from inclement weather. They warmed as they mounted the steps leading to the entrance.

They stood before the double doors and they slid open. Entering, they faced an expansive courtyard. There was a desk at the centre of the room. Two men armed with phasers sat at the desk.

"Can I help you?" one of the men asked in a desultory manner. Both his manner and his ebony skin reminded Macen of Derrico. Whereas Derrico spoke in with a resonant bass, this man spoke in a nasal wheeze. The whiny voice belied the stern exterior so greatly as to be a great source of amusement.

_Silent amusement_, Macen chided himself. He handed a padd to the man. The security officer activated it and read the orders Lisea forged for them. He nodded his approval regarding what he read and handed the padd back.

He pointed towards a turbolift shaft, "Go there and request Level Seven. Disembark and show the officers there your orders."

Macen offered his thanks. Taking D'art by the elbow, he guided her towards the lift. He stopped in front of its doors and waited. When the doors swooshed open, he entered, pushing D'art in before him.

"You don't have to guide me around like I'm a child." She snapped.

"That remains to be seen." Macen replied calmly, "You may be a great pilot. We'll see soon enough. On the ground, though, you have a tendency to drag your feet."

His eyes bored into hers, "If you hesitate, you draw attention. To remain inconspicuous you must move with confidence and purpose."

She opened her mouth to protest and then stopped herself. There was logic behind what he'd said. There was also what Nechayev had told D'art about Macen. The Admiral had claimed that Macen had been her best analyst, and "a damned fine field operative". Experience counted for something.

"Yes, sir. I understand." She asserted confidently.

Macen smiled, "That's more like it."

The lift slowed and then halted. The doors opened with swoosh. Macen realised that he _hated_ that sound. He'd served on Starfleet vessels for nearly eighty years, and they _all_ made that cursed noise.

As promised, the lift opened to reveal another security booth. Once again, there were two guards. This time it was a Bolian male and a Deltan female. Neither was armed.

He handed his orders to the Deltan. She gave his padd a perfunctory glance, then she settled her gaze on him. He could tell from the Bolian's reaction that she was flooding the room with her pheromones. Even D'art was getting a little hot under the collar. Obviously, the Deltan had no prior experience with an El-Aurian. His people were immune to the biochemical aphrodisiacs her race produced.

Her eyes became sullen as she pointed down the hallway, "Quad Nine is that way."

Macen murmured his thanks as he took D'art by the arm and led her down the hall. She still seemed overwhelmed and confused. He led her out of the booth's sight then stopped. D'art leaned against the wall and collected herself.

"What the hell just happened?" she asked angrily.

"A slight pheromonal overdose." Macen answered, trying to conceal his amusement.

"I thought Deltans had to take an oath of celibacy before joining Starfleet." She growled.

"They do." Macen replied, then shrugged, "This installation isn't part of Starfleet. Who knows what protocols they've established?"

"They need to establish a few." D'art said, her rage increasing, "I've never even thought about sex with another woman. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was rip of her clothes and taste her…"

Macen held up his hands, "I really don't need to know."

D'art flushed, "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I was about to…"

Macen patted her on the shoulder, "It's all right. Are you ready to continue?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I've got myself together." She stood and straightened her uniform jacket, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He said, then in conspiratorial tones, "Especially not to Commander Danan. You'd never hear the end of it."

D'art managed a laugh, "I'll keep that in mind."

"C'mon, let's go." Macen said, pointing down the hall.

* * *

They proceeded to the next booth. This one sat before the corridor leading to Quad Nine. Yet again, there were two guards. They were female, a human and a Trill.

Macen repeated the ritual. D'art fidgeted under the Trill's scrutiny, still uneasy about the reaction the Deltan had evoked. The human studied the padd. Her head rose and her face was hard.

"What is your business with the prisoner?" she asked in a fierce tone.

"I've been asked to consult on the case." Macen lied, thankful for his Sciences divisional shirt, "That's easier if you've actually met the patient."

The guard broke into a smile, "Don't scare easy, eh? That's good, means you'll stand a chance against her. I'll warn you though, she's a wily one."

Macen nodded, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

The officer nodded to her Trill companion, "Drix here will unlock the door for you."

"Thanks again." Macen threw her a jaunty salute.

The trio proceeded down the hall until they reached room thirteen. Drix motioned them to stand aside as she waved a passkey over the lock. The door emitted a chime then opened. As it opened, Macen pressed a hypo against Drix's neck and depressed its injection stud.

The hypo hissed and the Trill fell unconscious into Macen's ready arms. He dragged her into the room. D'art followed him, glancing about nervously for the room's occupant. She found her huddled in the corner.

The darkness of the room did little to occlude its purpose. The walls were padded. The furniture was barren, and bolted to the floor. Breaks and deep scratches etched into the floor tiles indicted that the bolts had not been effective against Vulcan strength in the past.

T'Kir sat in a feral crouch, watching them. Her dark eyes flashed with conflicting emotions D'art could not identify. The Vulcan's hair was wild. It looked as though someone chopped it off with a dull hatchet. It was of varied lengths that stuck out in every conceivable direction.

T'Kir's head canted in an odd angle as she watched them. Macen turned and there was the light of recognition in her features. The wariness in posture disappeared. She slumped into a lounging sprawl on the floor.

"Well, you've certainly taken your time getting here, Brin Macen." She scolded, her voce rising and falling in a strange, child-like cantor.

"I've been busy." Macen replied brusquely, "Would you like to leave?"

She sat up, pleading in her eyes, "More than anything."

Macen pointed at D'art, "Then follow her." He instructed her sternly, "Don't let anything happen to her." His eyes narrowed, "And more importantly, don't do anything to her."

D'art thought for a moment that T'Kir was pouting for a moment, but dismissed the idea. Who'd ever heard of a Vulcan vamping before? It was an absurd idea. She quickly dismissed it.

"I don't want to go with her." T'Kir protested, "She doesn't like me."

"Yes, she does." Macen assured her, "She has no reason not to."

""She thinks I'm strange." T'Kir accused.

"You're different than any Vulcans she's known." Macen explained, "Give her time, she'll grow to love you."

"She'd better." T'Kir muttered than rose to follow D'art.

Macen turned to the young ensign, "You know what to do."

D'art nodded, "Get to the pick-up site, stay out of the way, and most of all, don't get caught."

Macen nodded proudly, "Good girl. Get going."

D'art motioned for T'Kir to follow her. She slipped out of the room. She noticed that T'Kir was dressed only in the typical blue jumpsuit common to Federation medical facilities the quadrant over. She was also barefoot, which gave her a considerable advantage in walking softly.

She paused while Macen passed them. He strode up to the security booth and went to the other side of it, distracting the officer there from D'art and T'Kir's approach. Macen's sudden reappearance and her partner's absence puzzled the woman. She barely had time to register T'Kir's presence behind her before the Vulcan's hand snaked out and squeezed the vulnerable nerve junction in her neck. The guard tensed, then went limp.

"Good job." Macen commended T'Kir's effort.

T'Kir's eyebrow rose in disdain, "It was far too simple."

"Just remember that if you two encounter any more guards." Macen urged and then proceeded alone further down the hall.

"Where is he going?" T'Kir demanded to know.

"He has another mission." D'art stated simply.

"What other 'mission'?" the Vulcan asked archly, "I should be the only 'mission'."

"Don't we think highly of ourselves?" D'art shot back. T'Kir's eyes flashed. D'art could see danger rolling behind the frozen masque of a Vulcan face.

"You have taken a great risk to free me." T'Kir nearly snarled, "It is only _logical_ to assume that it is because I am of great worth to you."

D'art noted the sarcastic tone surrounding her use of the word "logic", but couldn't argue with the reasoning behind it. "He has to disable the shield that prevents the transporters from working."

T'Kir's head quirked to one side, "Then we should go wherever it is you're supposed to take me and be ready for our imminent departure."

The Vulcan's mercurial mood swings (_did Vulcans have mood swings?)_ were really beginning to bother her, but once again, she couldn't refute the 'logic' of the suggestion, "Follow me."

* * *

Macen had reached a maintenance hatch. He opened it. On the other side a Jeffries Tube style access tunnel lay revealed. Macen reached out and took hold of the ladder. He began his climb towards the roof.

He had to climb six levels before reaching the roof. He keyed the door panel. It opened slowly. He stepped out onto the roof.

The section he stood atop was one of the few flat sections. Behind him rose a tower. He instinctively knew that it contained a security detail. Before him lay the array. To either side, the roof slanted towards the ground. To the right, it led to a thirteen-story drop to the ground. To the left, a two-kilometre drop to an outcropping of the Andes awaited.

He moved forward purposefully. He made straight for the array, careful not to look sideways as that panoramic view. He went to the other side of the array, blocking him from the tower's view. He opened an access panel.

Macen quickly went to work pulling out chips and connectors. The field began to waver. He worked faster, knowing that he was undoubtedly tripping alarms. Voices drifting in from across the roof confirmed his suspicion.

He ripped out the last circuit board. All the indicators went dead. The array was deactivated. He hit his comm badge.

"The field's down." He hissed to D'art, "Get out now."

"Acknowledged," she replied in a whisper.

Macen reached to the small of his back and withdrew a surprise concealed there. It was a pistol grip with a hinged cylinder atop it. He released the safety and the cylinder rolled into place over the right side of his hand. He peered around the right side of the array, gun hand ready.

Several Security officers were approaching him. He raised his right hand and fired. A green ball of energy erupted from the diminutive weapon and sailed over the officers' heads. The stairwell they had just vacated erupted into a shower of sparks as the energy burst cut it in half.

The volley of phaser fire that he drew in response was as overwhelming as it was futile. The random bursts they were wildly firing at him were causing more damage to the array then he could have ever hoped to accomplish. Macen shook his head in disgust. _They'll give anybody a phaser these days_.

* * *

D'art and T'Kir materialised atop the two person transporter pad within the shuttle. T'Kir glanced quickly about the shuttle before breaking into a beatific smile. D'art's eyes went wide and her jaw went slack. She'd never seen a Vulcan smile before. There was something about it that made it more frightening then any of T'Kir's oddities.

"What, you've never seen someone smile before?" T'Kir asked sarcastically.

"No, not like that." D'art admitted.

"Get used to it." T'Kir replied forcefully, then turned and waved towards the cockpit, "Lisea, how nice to see you again!"

Danan never turned, never budged. Slowly and calmly she said, "Get off the transporter pad and try to get a lock on Macen."

"Certainly." T'Kir replied cheerfully, "I wouldn't want Brin to get hurt. He has only just rescued me."

_Oh my God,_ D'art thought to herself, _she really is crazy._

T'Kir turned. Her eyes were venomous, "I _heard _that." She hissed, then stepped off the pad.

D'art's eyes swelled wide, as though they would burst.

* * *

Sparks flew over Macen's head. The phaser bursts were not overloading various systems within the array, causing them to discharge. The blasts weren't getting through, yet.

He tapped his comm badge, "Macen to _Oberon_, are you ready yet?"

"Just a moment, we need to get a lock on you." Danan replied.

"Well, hurry up." Macen said irritably.

"It's _your_ plan." Danan snapped back, "Live with it."

"Just keep a lock on my comm badge." Macen replied. He turned and fired several shots over the Security officers. He broke and sprinted to his right. He had almost made it to the slant before the first phaser blast sizzled by.

He jumped. His body was angled when he landed. He slid down the roof feet first. The edge was nearing.

"Anytime now!" he shouted into the comm badge.

* * *

"Well?" Danan asked in a surly tone.

"I'm trying to!" D'art answered, voice rising in panic.

"Hurry," Danan urged, "I've got him on sensors. He's headed off the edge!"

"I'm trying!" D'art repeated.

T'Kir rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Let me do it."

"I can do it!" D'art protested.

"Stop arguing and activate the damn transporter!" Danan shouted back.

T'Kir grabbed D'art and threw her aside. Her eyes flitted over the board. Hands flew across the controls. Her mouth twisted into a satisfied smile as she activated the transport beam.

* * *

Macen's feet slid over the edge, followed shortly by the rest of him. He was plummeting in freefall. He wouldn't reach the ground until he had fallen for two kilometres. He would reach terminal velocity far before then.

His mind was still distantly analysing this possibility when he felt the familiar sense of dislocation common to the transporter. He faded and then rematerialised on the shuttle. He had changed locations, but he had not had a chance to shed all of his momentum. The moment he became solid, he flew forward off the pad.

Everything was a blur. He knew he'd collided with something, but had no idea what. Whatever it was, it was underneath him. Its warmth and suppleness surprised him.

"I'm happy to see you too." T'Kir purred.

Macen pushed himself off the floor, and her, "We need to stop meeting like this."

'No need to leave." She said silkily, rolling onto her stomach, "I was just getting…comfortable."

"I'm sure." He muttered as he took his seat at the helm. He glanced over at Lisea. Her expression was livid. He gave her an "I know" shrug.

She snorted and typed plotting instructions into her board. Macen was surprised she didn't break the panel with the degree of force she was employing. Behind them, he heard T'Kir's manic giggle.

_Okay, maybe this wasn't the greatest idea._ He thought.

"I heard that." T'Kir said accusingly.

* * *

"What the _hell_ did you think you were doing?" Nechayev roared. Within the confines of Macen's Ready Room, it was nearly deafening.

Macen sat in his chair behind his desk alcove. His hands were laced behind his head, supporting it as he leaned back in his chair. He wore a small, satisfied smirk across his face. His twinkled with mischievous delight.

"I thought I was obeying your instructions." He answered.

"Damn you." She pointed a finger at him, "Don't you _dare_ twist my words to suit your actions."

He leaned forward, lacing his hands together. His expression was sombre, "I'm not twisting. I just…improvised." He gave a slight shrug.

"Next time you want to 'improvise', ask for my permission first." She said, her rage subsiding. She took a seat opposite him. "Why did you do it?"

"I needed someone I could trust." He held up a hand to ward away her obligatory objections, "My mission's been compromised." His eyes locked with hers. There was no doubt there, she saw. She nodded for him to continue.

"My Exec and my Ops officer both die before they can get here. Reasons unknown." Macen said sardonically, "I'm willing to wager that two 'qualified' candidates mysteriously appeared while I was incommunicado."

She nodded, "You're right. Commander Torres and Lieutenant Avery both came up in our records search."

Macen snorted, "It doesn't surprise me. Whoever is handling this is getting sloppy. They're taking unnecessary risks."

She caught his underlying tone, "You mean besides the deaths of Willis and Margoro?"

He smiled, "Whoever thought they could slip a Romulan into the crew with such a weak cover story has serious mental deficiencies."

"A Romulan?" she asked, "What Romulan?"

"_Doctor Viddan_." He answered disdainfully.

She shook her head, "No, that's not right. Dr. Viddan is Hynathean."

"Not anymore." He replied.

The Admiral released the deepest sigh Macen had ever heard. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and muttered obscenities to herself in Russian. Macen had never learned the human tongue himself, but understood from others that it contained choice metaphors. After a few sentences, she opened her eyes.

"Any others?" she asked in resignation.

"Confirmed or suspects?" Macen retorted.

"Either." Nechayev said sharply.

Macen shrugged, "No confirmed, but as far as suspects…" he swept his arms expansively, "take your pick."

"What a way to start the mission." Nechayev commented dryly. Macen snickered. "Is there something I should be aware of, Captain?"

"No, sir." He replied with a straight face, "It just seems that that's a popular opinion."

Nechayev nodded her understanding. No news, or opinions, travelled quite like those of the negative variety. It was a phenomenon that could fill volumes of social science research periodicals. If they could ever actually quantify it in the first place. No matter, now was the time to contain what damage they could.

"What do you require at this time?" she asked pointedly.

"I could use a replacement CMO for when the current one 'blows' his cover." He informed her.

She thought for a moment, then replied, "I'll ask Admiral McCoy."

Macen looked at her sceptically, "If you don't mind my asking, but isn't he a little _old_ for a human?"

Nechayev chuckled, "I'll ask _if_ he has anyone to recommend." She shook her head, "If you want to run around the galaxy acting like James Kirk, you'll need a good physician. McCoy will be the expert on who qualifies."

She looked at him sadly, "I just wish I had a Mr. Spock for you."

Macen shook his head, "I'm quite happy with Lisea, thank you."

Her smile was one of approval, "I'm sure you are."

"Although..." Macen said.

"What?" Nechayev asked wearily.

"I could use Aric Tulley."

"No." Nechayev said flatly, "I'm not setting up a Maquis reunion here. When, _if_, you get beck, we'll talk about his release."

After Nechayev departed, Macen had T'Kir sent to his Ready Room. Someone had taken a comb to her hair, but it was still dishevelled. Macen doubted any amount of brushing could bring her wild tangle under control. The rest of her was dressed smartly in a Starfleet uniform and yellow Division shirt.

"I'm giving you the brevet rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade, is that acceptable?"

She stared off towards the wall, "Fas…_cin…_a…ting." She replied. Macen's head spun from that one. An officer had once made a joke about such dictation, referring to it as "Valley" speak. The officer had made the reference scornfully. Macen could understand why.

His eyes narrowed and his voice lowered, "Can you do the job?"

Panic flashed across her features, "Of course." She plopped down into the seat across from him and reached for his hands. "I can do it, really!"

His expression remained dubious, "I read your fitness reports. This kind of behaviour wasn't in them."

She leaned back into the chair, a smug smile settling across her face, "Their encryption was sooo easy to break."

A wry expression flashed across Macen's face, "Well, it's nice to know your skills haven't atrophied."

He extricated his hands from hers, "Seriously, I need to know…can you do the job?"

She looked at him, eyes large and pleading.

He leaned closer, "If you tell me you can't, I won't send you back. When this mission is done, I'll drop you off wherever you want to go."

There was a mixture of relief and sadness in her eyes, "I can do it. Trust me."

The longing and conviction in her voice convinced Macen of her sincerity, "All right. The job is yours. If at any time, you don't think you can handle it, let me know. You'll have as much time off as you need to pull yourself together."

She smiled gratefully, "You'll be the first to know."

"We're launching in ten hours, you should spend some time getting acquainted with your post." He suggested.

She nodded, then winked at him, "I could also spend some time showing you how grateful I am."

He shook his head, "That won't be necessary."

"Alright, but if you ever change your mind" she shrugged started to leave "You know where to find me." She called over her shoulder as she went through the door.

_If you think that's going to happen, you really are crazy_, he thought to himself.

"I heard that!"

* * *

An hour before their scheduled launch, Macen received word from Derrico. Their newest, and final, member of the crew had arrived. Macen informed Derrico that he would meet the new doctor in Sickbay. He authorised Security to seal the ship in preparation for departure.

Minutes later he entered Sickbay and received one of the greatest surprises of his life. The new doctor was there, and he was a Klingon. A Klingon in full battle dress who seemed to be in the midst of a personal crusade of applying every known Klingon curse to the layout of the Sickbay. He was creating several of his own towards the hapless staff caught in the midst of his tirade.

"What's going in here?" Macen demanded.

The Klingon turned. His fierce eyes burned with rage as he glowered at Macen. He was several inches taller than Macen. He drew himself up and moved towards the Captain.

"Who are you?" the Klingon bellowed.

"I'm Captain Brin Macen, the commander of this vessel." Macen said levelly, his eyes never wavered from the Klingon's.

"What do you wish of me?" the Klingon snarled.

"I want you to stop screaming at your fellow officers like an Orion hag." Macen replied coolly.

The Klingon's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped several octaves, "If you were not my commanding officer, I would kill you."

"Try it." Macen replied.

* * *

Derrico and a Security team rushed to Sickbay, responding to a report of a riot. When they arrived, they found half a dozen Medical personnel standing terrified outside of the room. Guttural yells and loud crashes could be heard emanating from within. Derrico positioned his men on either side if the door before opening it.

The door opened and they rushed in high-low pairs. They found the Klingon lying on his back, blood dripping from his cracked lips and bruised nose. Macen stood warily nearby. His uniform was torn, and he was bleeding as well.

"Sir?" Derrico asked unsteadily.

"At ease, Lieutenant." Macen replied, dropping his guard position, "The good doctor and I were just getting acquainted."

Derrico nodded. He didn't understand the situation, but understanding was unnecessary. The Captain said it was all right. The question remained how would the Klingon "doctor" respond?

The Klingon sized Derrico up, "You appear to be a warrior."

Derrico remained impassive, "I am the Chief Tactical Officer."

"I knew it!" the Klingon boasted proudly as he stood, "Those massive shoulders, that proudly shaven head, the dusk, Klingon-like features. A warrior born, like the Captain!"

The Klingon turned to Macen, "I am Kort, I am honoured to serve with you."

"The honour is mine." Macen replied respectfully.

"If there is no call for Security's presence?" Derrico asked.

Macen waved his hand, "It's all right. You can go. Tell the Medical staff to come back in here."

The Security officers departed and the Medical staff returned. A worried looking nurse approached Macen, "Sir, would you like me to tend to those wounds?"

He smiled, facing Kort, "No. I'll wear the bruises in remembrance of a fine opponent." With that he departed from Sickbay. Behind him he could hear Kort bellow for all to hear, "A true warrior!" Macen just hoped he wouldn't regret delaying medical treatment too badly.

* * *

An hour later, Macen was on the bridge. He was in the centre seat. Everyone was flush with excitement. Macen swivelled his seat around to steal a glance at the faces of his new bridge staff.

Derrico sat at Tactical, his face an inscrutable masque. Danan sat next to him at Science. She'd opted to remain at her post rather than transfer her station to Master Systems. That post would now double as a relief position along with Environmental. Danan's face was bright and eager.

An Engineering rating was seated at the Engineering station. Tarrik opted to stay with his warp core. Macen appreciated an engineer reluctant to leave his charge behind to go sit on the bridge. It stank of trying to gain the Captain's attention, in Brin's humble opinion.

D'art and T'Kir's backsides were facing him. They were both occupied with their panels, being the two busiest people on the bridge. T'Kir seemed more controlled, although her movements were still accented by odd tics. D'art's focus was razor sharp. Nothing mattered to her except her plot.

Kort and Viddan had both come to the bridge, albeit opposite sides of the bridge. McCoy had briefed Kort on Viddan's true allegiances prior to his arrival. Macen could tell by Kort's body language that he longed for the moment when he could rip the Romulan's spleen out and force-feed it to him. The Romulan, on the other hand, seemed taken in by the spectacle of a starship departing from dock.

"Status, Mr. Tarrik?" Macen asked via the comm.

"Ready when you are." Tarrik called back.

"In that case, activate running lights, Mr. T'Kir." Macen called out.

"Running lights enabled." T'Kir announced.

"Clear all moorings." Macen ordered.

T'Kir manipulated controls, then replied, "All moorings are cleared."

"_Odyssey_ to Spacedock Traffic Control." Macen spoke.

"Spacedock here, _Odyssey_, how may we be of assistance?"

"Requesting permission to depart." Macen informed them.

"Permission granted _Odyssey_. Traffic will update Sector Control and grant you immediate transit status."

Brin smiled, that cleared the ship to engage warp at the Io boundary, "Thank you, Traffic."

"Godspeed _Odyssey_." Traffic replied before terminating the transmission.

"Helm, take us out. One quarter impulse." Macen ordered, as a feeling of satisfaction rushing over him.

The _Odyssey_ slipped away from her moorings and vectored towards the awaiting open space doors. She easily slid past them out into open space. As she cleared the confines of Spacedock, Macen ordered full impulse. The ship throbbed with power as she increased velocity.

She cleared the moon within moments. Mars' orbit passed by. Sensors alerted them to approaching ships. Several Starfleet fighters swept in to give their larger sister a send-off.

At the Io boundary, the fighters broke off. D'art barrel rolled the ship in a salute to them. Silence enveloped the bridge. They were about to go to warp.

"Engineering, are you ready to engage the warp drive?" Macen asked.

"Just give the word." Tarrik replied confidently.

"The word's given." Macen replied in kind. He glanced towards D'art's back, "Plot course for the Ktarrian frontier. Warp six."

"Aye, sir." D'art answered crisply, "Course laid in."

"Let's do it." Macen ordered.

D'art tapped the warp control on her board and the ship altered time-space. The warp field enveloped the ship. The starfield became a miasma of colours, then faded altogether. Nothing but brilliant streaks were visible as they travelled faster than visible light.

"Go to warp eight." Macen ordered. D'art complied accelerating the ship even faster. The ship responded perfectly. Macen leaned forward, "Warp nine."

The ship accelerated even more. The _Odyssey_, unlike her siblings could maintain speeds of up to warp nine point six for sustained periods. That made them one of the fastest ships in the fleet. Macen ordered the ship, decimal point by decimal point, accelerated until she reached her maximum speed. They maintained there for several moments.

Macen called to Engineering, "How's your status, Mr. Tarrik?"

"Everything's perfect!" Tarrik called back proudly, "Better than the design teams expected."

"Glad to hear it." Macen said with a laugh. "Helm, drop speed to warp six. Maintain that speed and current heading."

"Aye, sir." D'art replied with the satisfaction they were all feeling. All save Viddan, who was putting on quite the show. Macen couldn't fault the Romulan's acting abilities. Macen leaned back into his with a general sense of well being, and a lot of soreness. He was already regretting his earlier refusal of treatment. _That's the price of living for over four hundred years_, he mused.


	4. Chapter 4

The _Enterprise-E_ glided gently through space. As always, the flagship of Starfleet had been busy. The ship and crew had just finished negotiations with the Zynz'ynerts. The species had proven almost as indecipherable as the name. The crew had come through, and negotiations towards greater co-operation would now begin.

Picard stepped out of the turbolift onto the bridge awash with a sense of approving satisfaction with his crew's efforts. The insectoid Zynz'ynerts' language was the result of vibrations transmitted through their chitonous carapaces. It had taken quite a bit of ingenuity to produce a supplemental device to the universal translator in order for the two species to communicate. Picard had a long list of commendations that he was recommending for many of the Science specialists serving aboard the ship.

His eyes drifted across the bridge, savouring the sights he beheld there. His Executive Officer, Will Riker was at his post alongside the captain's chair. Data was at OPS. Lieutenant J.G. Kell Perim manned CONN. Picard knew Beverly Crusher was down in Sickbay. Geordi LaForge was in Engineering. Deanna Troi was seeing crewmembers in her role as Ship's Counsellor. The only one was truly a stranger to Picard was his Chief Tactical Officer, Rab Daggit.

Daggit had joined the crew at the closing of the Dominion War. The Angosian had served with an elite Tactical unit prior to his posting to the _Enterprise_. He had only been aboard a few weeks. Picard had been curious to see what the former commando's reactions would be during their encounter with the Zynz'ynerts. He had not been disappointed. Contrary to Picard's last encounter with Angosian commandos, Daggit had been coolly collected even when tensions had escalated and violence appeared eminent.

Picard walked down to his seat and assumed it with a pleasant smile, "How goes it, Number One?"

Riker grinned at him. He'd decided to grow his beard back. His relationship with Counsellor Troi seemed as vibrant as ever, despite her initial disgust regarding his decision towards the beard. Riker's enthusiasm was contagious and he often inspired the best from the crew.

"Everything is going smoothly, Captain." Riker answered with his characteristic ebullience, "We should complete our plasma displacement study on schedule, and be underway for our geological survey of Kruneb VI in eighteen hours."

Picard's smile of delight mirrored Riker's, "Excellent!"

Data turned at that moment, "Captain, you have an incoming transmission from Starfleet Command."

Picard was surprised by this news. He wasn't expecting any transmissions from Command. A hollow feeling filled his stomach. He feared that another crisis was upon them. The Federation had seen too many of them as of late. He was disturbed the after effects that the war had left upon many people.

"I'll take it in my Ready Room." Picard informed Data as he stood. He gave his uniform jacket a slight downward tug as turned to Riker, "You have the bridge, Number One."

* * *

Picard proceeded straight for his desk upon entering his Ready Room. He sat down in his chair and activated the comm screen. Picard smiled amicably for the aide that originally appeared. His smile disappeared when Admiral Edward Jellico image replaced the aide.

"Greetings, Admiral." Picard said stiffly.

"Hello, Jean-Luc." Jellico replied with forced cheer. There was little love lost between the two men. Jellico had assumed command of the _Enterprise-D_ while Picard had been a prisoner of the Cardassians. The tales he had heard upon his returned of Jellico's browbeating his crew had infuriated him.

"How are you?" Jellico asked politely.

"Very well." Picard answered honestly, "Our last assignment proved more successful than we had anticipated."

"That's good to hear." Jellico replied flatly.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?" Picard asked, forcing himself to remain professional.

"I'll get right to the point." Jellico replied. Picard wished he'd done so at the onset, "We have a situation."

Picard groaned inwardly, but remained silent as Jellico continued, "A starship, the _U.S.S. Odyssey_, just set out for the Beta Quadrant." Jellico paused dramatically, "There may be a problem with her crew."

"What kind of problem?" Picard asked, still trying to get Jellico to the point.

"Her captain is a former Maquis." Jellico dropped on him.

Picard's eyes widened, "I thought all the surviving Maquis were scattered across various penal colonies."

Jellico frowned, "It's more complicated than that." He shifted position, leaning forward, "He was working for Starfleet Intelligence. He was assigned to infiltrate the Maquis. He became sympathetic towards their cause and compromised his mission."

"How?" Picard inquired.

"The damned fool actually fell in for their 'noble, oppressed cause' claptrap. He stopped sending reports and started fighting for them."

"How did he survive the Dominion sweep of the Maquis?"

"He turned tail and ran for Federation space." Jellico said derisively, "He also brought in as many ships as he could convince to follow him."

"You don't sound as though you approve." Picard commented dryly.

Jellico's eyes narrowed, "I never approve of traitors or terrorists."

"I'm certain they would never label themselves as such." Picard countered.

"Just as I'm sure a Jem'Hadar would never label himself a butcher."

"How did the ship fall into Maquis hands?"

Jellico sighed, "The man in question, Brin Macen, was recruited to conduct intelligence missions in Dominion space during the war. Upon returning to Earth, he managed to finagle command of a ship and take of for the Beta Quadrant."

"I would have thought that Macen's earlier defection to the Maquis would have prevented his acquiring a command assignment."

"It should have." Jellico nearly spat the words. He brushed the discussion aside with a wave of his hand, "The heart of the matter is that the vessel has departed Sector Zero-Zero-One in the wake of a series of unexplained mishaps."

Picard's curiosity rose, "Such as?"

"You name it. The ship's commanding officer is a former terrorist and rogue. The slated Executive and Chief Operations officers both die of 'mysterious' accidents mere hours before she departs. The 'replacement' for the Exec is the Science Officer, which happens to be the captain's former partner when he infiltrated the Maquis. Added to all of this, a penal psychiatric Institute was penetrated and one prisoner was freed. That prisoner was a former Maquis of the captain's acquaintance. Does any of this strike you as odd?"

Picard nodded, "I can see cause for much of your alarm, but why contact me?"

Jellico began to exhibit impatience, "Captain, en route to assuming command, there was a report of this officer rendezvousing with a Romulan Warbird. Now, he is taking one of the most advanced ships in the fleet near the Romulan border. That seems suspicious to me."

"I see." Picard replied, growing more concerned, "What is our assignment?"

"I want you to discreetly monitor the _Odyssey's_ activities. If she makes contact with the Romulans, then you intercept her and arrest the commander."

"Isn't that presumptuous?" Picard asked, "We would have to investigate the situation before making any…"

"Just follow orders, Captain." Jellico snapped, "Despite your recent actions surrounding the Baku, you do remember how to follow orders?"

Picard nodded, suppressing the outrage he felt, "Yes, sir."

"Then find them." Jellico ordered, "Find them, arrest whomever you have to, and bring them to me."

The screen winked out. Picard sat back in his chair. _What the hell is going on?_ Ignorance was far more lethal than inaction. Picard decided that it was time to acquire some more perspective on the entire situation.

* * *

Picard returned to the bridge, "Lieutenant Perim, please set a course for the Ktarrian border with the Federation."

"New orders, sir?" Riker asked the question on everyone's mind.

"I'm afraid so." Picard answered glumly, "We're looking for another Starfleet vessel that has gotten itself into a curious situation."

He turned to Data, "Mr. Data, "I need all the information of the _U.S.S. Odyssey_, her captain, and her crew that you can find."

"Certainly, sir." The android paused, "I believe I can be ready in two hours, is that acceptable?"

Picard smiled, "Certainly Data. When you're prepared, we'll convene in the briefing room."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

The turbolift doors opened, depositing Macen on Deck Four. The ship had been underway for a day now. There had been no problems with the ship whatsoever. He was uneasy though, wondering when the known and unknown agents planted on his ship would strike. Sounding alarms informed Macen that his wait was over.

His hand instinctively flew to his comm badge, "Macen here, report."

Derrico's bass rumbled the reply, "Security alert, sir. Dr. Kort reports that Dr. Viddan has gone mad."

"What happened?" Macen sighed. He'd been hoping the Klingon wouldn't provoke Viddan.

"A crewman went to Sickbay after a minor accident in Engineering. Kort insisted that Viddan treat the wound."

"And Viddan went berserk, took the patient hostage, and fled from Sickbay." Macen finished sourly.

There was a pause, "Yes, sir. How'd you know?"

"It's cliché." Macen sighed, "Full security alert, all decks."

This time the turbolift doors opened to reveal the bridge. Macen stepped out to find the bridge in chaos. Derrico was shouting orders into his comm. Several crewmen were shouting at each other. D'art kept frantically looking back at the commotion. Only Lisea and T'Kir seemed unaffected, although he seriously doubted the ship exploding would affect T'Kir.

"What the hell is going on here?" he shouted.

Everyone stopped. T'Kir sniggered. Danan met his eyes with an "I _told_ you" look. Macen looked around at all the extra crewmen on the bridge.

"Clear the bridge." He ordered calmly. He turned towards Derrico, "Seal the shuttle bay."

"Yes, sir." Derrico replied smartly.

Macen leaned over the rail and whispered to Danan, "And how much longer were you going to let this continue?"

"As long as it took you to get here." She answered, "I wouldn't want to hog all the fun."

"Thanks." He muttered.

"Sir," Derrico rumbled, "the computer lists Dr. Viddan as being on Deck Seven, section nine. He's in Astrometrics."

"His comm badge is in Astrometrics." Macen replied, "He's in the shuttle bay."

An alarm sounded on Derrico's board. He swivelled to face Macen, "Someone has activated a shuttle. They are firing phasers to try and penetrate the force field."

"Are the shuttle's shields activated?" Macen asked, "Or the engines?"

"No, sir." Derrico replied happily, "Neither are activated."

"T'Kir, access the shuttle's computers and deactivate the shuttle." Macen ordered.

She went to work as Derrico protested, "You said he'd be aboard. Won't he just reactivate the shuttle?"

Macen shrugged, "I was wrong. The engines weren't on-line, which means he didn't intend to use the shuttle to escape. Danan, run a sensor sweep in Engineering. Are there any non-designated Vulcanoid life signs?"

Danan studied her instruments, then smiled grimly, "There is one Vulcanoid without a comm badge moving towards Engineering."

"Sir!" Derrico said, "Security has found Chief Yates. She is unharmed."

"Good." Macen replied, then motioned for Derrico, "Come with me Lieutenant. Commander Danan, inform Tarrik he has company coming."

"You've got it" Danan called out as Derrico joined Macen in the turbolift.

* * *

When Macen and Derrico reached Engineering, several unconscious engineers and Security personnel littered the deck. Before entering Derrico double-checked the setting of his phaser. When he was satisfied, he grunted approvingly. Hr glanced over towards Macen in time to see the Captain withdraw a weapon from his waistband.

Macen reached around his waist and pulled out a pistol. Derrico stared at it in confusion. At the Academy, he had studied ancient and modern weapons form across known space. It resembled a projectile weapon from early Twenty-first century Earth.

"What _is_ that?" Derrico asked disdainfully.

"It's a pulsar pistol." Macen answered, amused by Derrico's attitude.

Derrico sniffed, "I could have issued you a phaser."

Macen shook his head, "Can't stand the things. Their design makes me think they're made to vacuum up lint."

Derrico's jaw hung slack for a moment before snapping shut. He entered Engineering first, weapon upright. Macen followed in similar fashion. Both searched the cavernous space high and low.

Unconscious crewmen were also sprawled across the deck here. Macen had to give the Romulans credit. They'd developed a powerful, concealed weapon. Its discharges had not alerted Security as to its existence.

The sound of a spanner hitting the deck alerted them to another presence in the room. Derrico went around one side of the throbbing warp core. Macen skirted around the other side. Macen happened upon Viddan first.

He was using a small device to create microfractures in the plasma coolant lines. Some time later, the lines would break. Every engineer in the room would be killed by the plasma discharge. They would either have to eject the warp core, or let it destroy the ship. Either way, the Romulan spy's interests were served.

"Freeze!" Macen shouted, aiming his pistol at Viddan.

Viddan gave him a smug smile, "If you do not put your weapon down, I will rupture the hose now."

"You'll die." Macen reminded him.

Viddan shrugged, "Better that then surrender and dishonour."

"I feel the same way." Macen informed him.

"Then it appears we are at an unfortunate impasse, Captain. A pity your crew has to die to satisfy your vanity."

"Oh, well."

Viddan's eyebrows rose, "I truly believe you would do it." He chuckled, "I have always wanted to meet a human that thought like a Romulan, and I finally have. I can die peacefully."

He turned his head back towards the coolant line. His thumb moved towards the activation switch on the small device. A strange expression crossed his face and then he slumped over. Derrico moved closer from his position behind Viddan.

He knelt down and checked Viddan's pulse. Macen kept his weapon trained on the Romulan, just in case he was feigning. Derrico stood and holstered his phaser. Macen tucked his back into the rear of his waistband.

Derrico hit his comm badge, "I need a Security team in Engineering. I also require a Medical team. There are wounded."

He glanced over to Macen, "I thought you were going to let him do it."

Macen grinned, "That's what I wanted him to think. You shot him a moment before I squeezed the trigger."

"You could have distracted him just as greatly by placing your weapon on the deck."

Macen gave him a quizzical glance, "I meant what I said about surrendering, Lieutenant." With that Macen walked away.

* * *

Viddan awoke in the brig. He heard the last rush of air from a hypospray as it emptied its contents into his body. He jerked his head towards the sound. He found Kort's face looming over him smiling.

He looked around the room. Derrico, T'Kir and Macen were also present. T'Kir was giving him a malignant smile that he found disturbing. _That_ one was crazy. Derrico was staring sternly at him, trying to give his best "bad cop" impression. Viddan had always been amused by that particular human tactic. On Romulus, _all_ cops were bad cops.

He met the captain's eyes. Where T'Kir's eyes disturbed him, Macen's eyes terrified him. There was no emotion in those eyes. No mercy, no understanding, his eyes were utterly devoid of any human feelings at all.

"I must say, I expected to be treated better than this. To be awakened by a Klingon, really?" he said with haughty bravado.

Macen's eyes never flickered, never wavered, "Tell me what I need to know, and no harm will come to you."

"Or what?" Viddan replied scornfully, "You Federation types are all talk. You can't do anything to me. Your precious regulations prohibit it."

"Lt. Derrico," Macen announced coldly, "you are dismissed."

"Sir?" Derrico asked in bafflement.

"I'm taking charge of the prisoner." Macen informed him, "You and the other officers standing watch in the brig are dismissed."

"That may be unsafe." Derrico protested.

"You are dismissed." Macen repeated. His tone was machine-like. His eyes were merciless. His voice promised death.

Derrico glared at him and then broke. He left without a word. The two officers stationed at the brig left as well. Macen returned his attention to Viddan.

"One last chance." He said, "Tell me."

Viddan assumed an imperious air. Macen nodded towards Kort. The Klingon released the Romulans bonds. Viddan stood. He faced Kort for a moment before the Klingon struck him. Kort struck again, and again, and again…and he kept on striking.

Fifteen minutes later, Viddan sat bleeding in the chair he had started in. Kort was panting in a corner. Macen and T'Kir now stood before him. T'Kir was swaying side to side, eagerly anticipating what was coming next. Macen remained as inscrutable as ever.

Macen knelt, sitting on one knee, "Ready know?"

"Never." Viddan replied hoarsely through swollen lips.

Macen jerked his thumb towards T'Kir. Viddan's eyes followed the motion. She giggled and waved at him. Viddan shook his head wearily.

"You think that having some Rigellian trollop throw herself at me will loosen my tongue?"

Macen smiled. Viddan's blood froze. It was a predator's smile. It was a smile of victory.

"She's not Rigellian." Macen explained slowly, "She's Vulcan. She's going to rip the information from your mind."

Viddan's heart skipped a beat, "She can't. There are rules. Vulcans don't _take_ information."

"Take a look at her my friend." Macen advised, "She's not stable. I really don't think she gives a damn about Vulcan etiquette."

Viddan shook his head, "No." He pleaded.

"The information." Macen replied, "Who sent you?"

"I can't." Viddan hissed.

"You will." Macen promised, "One way or another."

"You should understand!" Viddan whispered, "You said you would choose death over surrender."

Macen's expression hardened, "So you've made your choice then?"

Viddan's head gave a weak nod. Macen shook his head in disappointment. He stood and stepped aside. He motioned for T'Kir to take over.

She knelt before Viddan. She ran her tongue over her smiling lips. She put her hands on either side of his head. Viddan began to scream.

* * *

"This isn't right!" Derrico shouted. His voice echoed across the briefing room.

Danan stood impassively before him, hands on her hips, "Then you file a report, Lieutenant."

"That's what I'm doing." He explained.

"I don't think you have a full appreciation of the situation, Lieutenant." Danan explained in a voice that was too patient, "We have a saboteur in our custody that was able to penetrate the best security Starfleet Intelligence could devise. We had two dead crewmen before we launched. We may have more now. He was stopped trying to arrange the destruction or capture of this vessel by the Romulan Star Empire."

Her voice grew hard, "We have a prisoner that may provide us with valuable information regarding these events. Both our lives and our mission may depend on obtaining that information. I will support any and all efforts the Captain authorises to gain it."

Derrico gazed at Danan as though seeing her for the first time. There was an underlying fierce determination emanating from her that Derrico had not recognised before. He was suddenly relieved she was an ally. She would be an implacable foe.

"There are regulations." He protested weakly.

"That do or do not apply here!" Danan snapped, "The Captain will brief you more on the nature of our mission. All I can ask of you is that you at least try and trust him until then." Her eyes narrowed, "If you cannot, then may I remind you that you are compelled to follow legal orders. Any actions that you perceive as illegal, you may report in your log and file with the appropriate authorities."

Derrico decided not to argue with the steel in her voice. She had correctly read the regulations to him. He could not accuse his superior of failing to abide by regulations if he was not willing to do so himself. He nodded assent.

Macen led Kort and T'Kir into the briefing room. Danan, Derrico, Tarrik, and D'art were already present. Brin was relieved to see the Chief Engineer had recovered quickly from the Romulan weapon. He also noted the way Derrico glowered at him.

"What's the status of the warp core?" Macen asked.

Tarrik shrugged, "The damage is repairable. Another few seconds and things would be bad. As it is, we'll have everything repaired in four hours."

"Glad to hear it." Macen replied. His face was set in stone, "Its time we all realised what's going in here."

"Excuse me, sir, what happened to Viddan?" Derrico answered.

"_Mind_-lock." T'Kir answered with her annoying habit of overemphasising sections of a word.

"What's that mean?" D'art asked.

T'Kir snickered, "It means that he was trained to resist a mind-meld. It burned him out."

"Will he recover?" Derrico asked in alarm.

"Kort is looking after him." Macen answered, "We'll do whatever we can for him."

"It's our fault he's like this." Derrico growled, "It's our responsibility to cure him."

Macen's voice was brittle when he spoke, "Lieutenant, would you like to know what we're doing out here?"

Derrico hesitated, then nodded. Macen began to explain the reports the Federation had received. Then, he explained how the slated senior officers had been killed. Derrico had visibly paled by the time Macen began to explain what Viddan had revealed.

"Viddan's real name was Letal Siddran. He was a member of the Tal Shiar. His order has had a working arrangement with a group from the Federation. He did not have access to any of the group's members. What he did know was that there _is_ a planet in the Beta Quadrant bordering Romulan space that is occupied by citizens from the Federation. The Tal Shiar does not operate this facility. The group they have their 'arrangement' with maintains it. The Romulans merely provide transportation for the prisoners through their space. In exchange for this, they may gather whatever information they can from the prisoners while they are in their care."

Macen stopped for a moment, his eyes were burning flames, "The prisoners on this planet are a select group from the Federation. They are dissidents. They have been captured by their respective governments and removed to this place. Apparently, this arrangement has been in place for quite some time. It was not noticed until the war quadrupled the number of prisoners being shipped off."

His eyes swept across the room, "We have also learned that Starfleet personnel are involved. They gave the Romulans our mission plans." He paused, "This means we are alone. We do not know whom we can trust. From this moment on, we are under communications silence. All transmissions must be authorised by Commander Danan or myself." Silence descended over the room.

Finally, Derrico spoke, "Sir, I…apologise for my earlier attitude and remarks."

Macen nodded acceptance, "It's all right. Feel free to speak your mind. Just remember that you can ask for more information. I'll let you know if I can't give you more."

Derrico nodded assent.

"Dismissed."

* * *

"You may proceed, Mr. Data." Picard informed his Second Officer.

Data looked about the briefing room's table. The familiar faces were there, Picard, Riker, Troi, Crusher, LaForge, and the newer faces as well: Perim and Daggit.

Data found it odd that Perim was still considered one of the newer faces. The Trill had joined the crew after the death of Lieutenant Hawke. She'd been with them during the Baku Insurrection and throughout the Dominion War. She'd proven herself a highly competent and loyal officer.

"Yes, Captain." Data said, beginning his presentation, "The _U.S.S. Odyssey_ is a fairly unique ship. It was originally designed as a prototype to test the weapons arrays and power relays that would later be employed in the _Defiant_ prototype."

"I thought that the _Defiant-_class had gone into full production." LaForge commented.

Data's eyebrows rose, "Indeed. The war slowed the production of more vessels of the class. It was decided that the _Odyssey_ should be made operational and commissioned into service."

"What are her capabilities?" Riker asked.

"She has twice the defensive capability of a standard starship. She is also capable of sustained travel at warp nine point six."

Geordi whistled at that. Daggit scowled upon hearing the _Odyssey's _offensive punch. Riker and Picard exchanged worried glances. Troi suppressed a smile at seeing this.

"What about her captain?" Picard asked.

"A truly fascinating individual." Data commented, "Commander Brin Macen has served with Starfleet for Seventy-nine years."

"How is that possible?" Crusher asked.

"He is an El-Aurian, Doctor." Data replied.

"An El-Aurian?" Picard asked in surprise, "I was unaware of any El-Aurians serving in Starfleet."

"According to Starfleet records, there is only one." Data informed him.

"I'm surprised." Picard admitted, "The El-Aurians are pacifists. I'm surprised they would be actively involved with Starfleet."

"Guinnan served aboard the _Enterprise-D_." Troi reminded him.

"She was aboard, but not as a member of her crew." Picard made the distinction, "Her role was more of…an advisor."

"I'm afraid that perception is a bit of a misnomer." Data corrected.

"Of her being an invaluable advisor? Explain."

"I would not presume to disparage Guinnan in any way." Data amended, "But it is a popular misunderstanding that the El-Aurians are a completely pacifistic race."

Picard and the others were perplexed, so Data continued, "The El-Aurians enjoyed centuries of peace prior to the Borg invasion of their territory. That peace, however, was achieved by military means." There was quite a stir at that revelation.

Data pressed onward, "The El-Aurians spent several millennia defeating invading neighbours. They then abandoned such efforts and turned towards more peaceful pursuits, as well as a philosophically based quest for perfection."

"Where've we heard that before?" Crusher laughed, "It's no wonder the Borg sought them out."

"Yes, Doctor." Data agreed, "The cultural fascination with establishing balance combined with the longevity of most of the race would make the El-Aurians valuable drones."

"That doesn't explain why he would join the Maquis." Picard said.

"The Maquis?" Riker asked in surprise, "A serving Starfleet officer that was also a Maquis?"

"Commander Macen appears to be an enigma of sorts." Data replied, "He is a respected analyst and scholar. He is also a feared Maquis commander. It may take some effort to truly try and comprehend him."

"Begin an analysis of his known tactics and prepare a report for Commander Riker, Lt. Daggit, and myself."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Brin walked to the table with two trays. Lisea sat at the table waiting for him. He handed her one of the trays, "Here's yours." His smile was one of chagrin, "If I'd known we'd have the opportunity for a quiet dinner, I'd have replicated something more...romantic."

The woman's smile broadened with delight as she surveyed her plate, "This is fine. I haven't eaten squab since..." she frowned and shook her head.

"Right before we joined the Maquis." Macen replied.

"Before we were assigned to the Maquis." The woman corrected.

Macen shrugged, "Call it what you will."

The woman leaned back and laughed. It took her moment to stop. Her eyes were wistful. She bit her lip as remembrances of previous meals with Brin flooded her mind.

The thing that complicated matters was that she'd never actually been at all of them. As the spots running down her neck indicated, Lisea Danan was a Trill. Her symbiot's previous host, Thora, had been an associate and close friend of Brin's. Lisea had met Brin years later while they served together aboard a survey ship.

She smiled and turned away, looking out the window. She knew Macen was studying her, just as she was studying him. She found him relatively unchanged from her last memories, except for the goatee. His red-gold hair and blue-green eyes were the same as always.

She turned her head back towards him. Her dark eyes met his light ones. They weighed and measured one another. It was apparent that both of them were flooded with memories and feelings from their time together.

"You looked troubled for a moment." Brin commented, controlling the level of concern in his voice.

She smiled reassuringly, "Just a moment of dissonance. It's one of the reasons the Commission frowns on hosts interacting with previous hosts' loved ones, friends, or family."

"Must be difficult trying to sort out six people's lives while trying to resume your own." Brin replied.

She chuckled, then teasingly added, "A bit like trying to sort out four centuries and three quadrant's worth of experience?"

He grinned in chagrin, "A bit."

Brin had started his meal. Lisea remembered why Thora had considered him a dear friend. He was a bit mercurial and abrupt, but he was also _decent_. He had a forceful personality combined with a strong sense of honour. The first time she'd spent an hour with him and felt ready to trust him with her life.

Macen broke into a rueful grin, "Anyone ever tell you that you're dangerous?"

"No." Lisea replied, lacing her fingers together and laying her chin atop them.

"Well, you are." Brin informed her. They sat in silence for several minutes, staring at one another

"Well, we're a pair, aren't we?" he asked.

"Meaning?"

"Neither of us is saying a word." He replied with a wry grin.

"It's been a long three years." Lisea admitted.

"Tell me about it." He muttered.

"I can think of a few other things we could be doing to get...reacquainted." she said coyly.

"I see some things remain haven't changed." He said with a grin.

"No, they haven't. Lisea admitted, "I still love you."

"I still love you." Brin said solemnly, "Knowing you were out there, that's what kept me going during the war."

"Was it rough?" she asked.

There was a shadow in his eyes, "It was bad at times. I saw things that made the Maquis look like saints."

"Was there ever..." her voice caught, "I'd understand, three years is a long time...was there ever anyone else?"

He shook his head, "No. Call me old fashioned, but all I could think about was getting back to you."

Her smile was one of relief. It turned wry when Brin asked, "What about you?"

"No." she confessed, "For all my cosmopolitan Trill upraising, I couldn't stand the thought of being with anyone else."

"I guess that means we should stay together." He said dryly.

"You think?" she retorted with equal sarcasm. Sarcasm, banter, and their meal were all forgotten as they fell into each other's arms.

* * *

The door to T'Kir's quarters chimed. She growled in annoyance as she dropped her fork and yelled for whomever to come in. To her surprise, it wasn't Lisea Danan. She'd been expecting her to come and try and mark territory over Brin Macen since her arrival.

Who was standing there was a young lieutenant in science blues, "Can I come in?"

"I already said yes." T'Kir snapped testily, "What do you want?"

"The Captain asked me to drop by." The young man nearly stammered.

"The captain?" she repeated irritably, "Why would the Captain send a young morsel like you to me?"

The officer gulped, _it was kind of cute_, "He asked me to bring you these." He held out a bag contained several herbs and roots.

"Who are you?" she asked, baffled.

"Lt. Marc Berent." He answered, "I'm in Botany."

"And why did the Captain send you to me?" she asked again, rising from her chair and moving towards him like a predator.

He gulped again, "He wanted me to bring you Vulcan herbs."

"Vulcan?" she asked, momentarily stopping her approach.

"He wanted a series of herbs used to treat Vulcan children with over-developed mental powers. They use the herbs until they receive enough training to control their abilities." He shrugged, "At least that's what the computer said."

She grabbed him by the jacket lapels and kissed him fiercely. It was like no kiss he'd ever received. He was being devoured. There was a desperate passion to it that threatened to explode.

She released him, taking the herbs, "Thank you." She said demurely.

He stood there silently, waiting to see what would happen next. She turned, "Are you still here?" she waved her hand in a shooing motion, "You can leave now."

He nodded mutely and stepped outside into the hall. _That was the most erotic experience of my life_, he thought as the doors began to close.

"I heard that!" T'Kir called out before the doors finished closing.

Marc Berent ran down the corridor as though for his life.

* * *

"Counsellor, do you think that Macen can be reached?" Picard asked, sitting across from Troi on the couch in his Ready Room.

"Captain," she said with a smile, "I think anyone can be reached."

Picard chuckled at the ambiguity of his statement, "I meant, do you think that he really has gone rogue again, if so, can he be convinced to surrender peacefully?"

Troi pondered the question a moment, then sat her teacup down as she answered, "I have no basis upon which to judge whether he has gone rogue or not. As far as whether he would listen to reason, I have been studying his histories and anthropological studies. He seems to be a reasonable man."

"That very well may be," Picard interjected, "But coming from such a radical background?"

Trio gave him a reassuring look, "He really doesn't have such a militant attitude. He is unorthodox. Frequently, he ignores regulations, but has always proven just cause for doing so. His career is a testimony to a brilliant researcher an analytical mind."

"Sounds like another Starfleet captain I know." Troi said with amused irony.

Picard grinned appreciatively, "Maybe that's what I'm afraid of. My encounter with the Borg brought out the worst in me. Perhaps I'm afraid the Maquis has done the same for Macen."

Troi nodded, "A legitimate fear. But remember, it can also have brought out the best in either of you."

Picard was about to thank her for her encouraging words when the comm transmitted Riker's voice, "Captain, we've reached the Ktarrian border, and sir, there are two Romulan Warbirds already here."

"I'll be right there." Picard informed his first officer as he stood. Troi accompanied him as he proceeded to the bridge.

* * *

"Can I help you, Lieutenant?" Macen asked, looking up from one of the computer screens of his desk.

"I wanted to thank you for the herbs." T'Kir informed him. She still exhibited tics and her moods were still mercurial, but the edge was off. She was more restrained. Macen doubted she'd ever be "normal", either for Vulcans or humans, but she had definitely mellowed some already.

"Well, I finally had a clue about what was happening when you kept reacting to people's thoughts." He admitted, "Vulcans are typically touch telepaths. My reading revealed that occasionally a prodigy demonstrates superior ability. They are selected for intense mental training. Having been born on a colony world in the middle of the Demilitarised Zone, you didn't have access to that kind of training. The strain of always trying to block out thoughts all around you was a strain that eventually overwhelmed you. You react more to what others are thinking and feeling than to what they are doing."

"All I know," she said with a snort, "is that I actually got a good night's sleep."

"Glad to hear it." Macen replied.

"Of course, if I see Lt. Berent again, I doubt either of us will sleep at all."

Macen grinned, "Don't worry, T'Kir, I don't think anyone will ever confuse you for a 'normal' Vulcan."

"Good." she huffed as she left.

* * *

"Status of the Warbirds?" Picard asked as he took his chair.

"Ten thousand kilometres off our port and starboard sides." Daggit answered.

"They haven't raised their shields or armed their weapons systems." Riker reported.

"Hail them." Picard ordered.

Daggit busied himself for a moment, then lifted his head, "The Romulans are responding."

"Put on screen." Picard told him.

The image that appeared on the screen surprised Picard. She was Romulan, but unlike any Romulan he'd ever encountered. She possessed the upswept ears and eyebrows that marked her race. From that point on, she defied the norms. She did not display the slight ridges in her forehead that differentiated Romulans from Vulcans. Her hair was long and curly, not short and straight, as was the custom within the Empire.

"I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the Federation starship _Enterprise_. Whom do I have the honour of addressing?"

A faint smile played across her lips, "I am Commander P'ris. It is a…honour to meet the infamous Captain Picard."

"I am sure that 'infamous' would be an exaggeration." Picard replied modestly.

"Not at all." P'ris laughed pleasantly, "You are a celebrity among my people. Many would gladly give everything they have for the prestige your death at their hands would bring."

Picard's face remained impassive, "I find that unfortunate, our people have been making great strides recently…"

"Captain," P'ris interrupted, "the war is over. Any alliances formed during the war are also over. It would be best to remember that."

Picard noted the implicit threat in her words, "May I ask your business here?"

Her smile was confident as she spoke, "You may ask, but it is really none of your business. This is not Federation territory."

"Neither is it Romulan territory." Picard noted.

"Yet, we are both here. Curious is it not?" P'ris asked artfully dodging his verbal challenge.

"Captain, I will state our purpose…as a professional courtesy." P'ris announced suddenly, "I am awaiting an envoy from the Ktarrians. We are discussing a new trade agreement."

"I was unaware of any trade arrangements between the Ktarrians and the Star Empire." Picard admitted.

"There are a great many things you are unaware of, Captain." She replied scornfully, "You should not allow yourself to be distracted by your shortcomings."

Picard remained impassive. Riker started a bit at that comment. He could see that several crewmen were visibly upset. That was what P'ris wanted. He had to find a way to outmanoeuvre her.

"I shall take your words under consideration." He said pleasantly, "It so happens that I am awaiting a vessel here as well. Would you mind terribly if I wait alongside you?"

P'ris' face remained smug, but he could see a door shutting behind her eyes. The Commander was upset by his presence. She held up a finger. A subordinate appeared to her right and leaned in to whisper something to her.

She nodded to Picard, retaining her smile, "Very well. I shall not interfere in your business, if you do not interfere in mine."

"Thank you." Picard replied humbly, "Maybe relations between our peoples have warmed, regardless of the war's cessation."

The monitor screen went blank. Picard glanced about the bridge. Several crewmen returned to monitoring their stations. Picard suppressed a grin. He'd done the same as a junior officer.

"She's not happy, Captain." Troi spoke from his left, "But she is not displeased."

Picard turned her way, 'Explain."

Her brow furrowed, "She did not expect our appearance, but it has done nothing to alter her determination to fulfil her purposes here."

"Any clue as to what those might be?" Riker asked.

She shook her head sadly, "I'm afraid not. She's very good at controlling her emotions. She is also a person of frightening intelligence."

"Unfortunately, that still doesn't explain why there here." Picard commented, "Is there any truth to their alleged purpose?"

Troi shrugged, "Her mental discipline is too great. I cannot tell."

"Captain," Daggit's voice called out, "the two Warbird's are cloaking."

"One consolation," Riker muttered, "is that they can't fire on us while they're cloaked."

"Very true." Picard agreed, "But it also gives them the element of surprise." He straightened himself, "Mr. Daggit, raise shields."

"Yes, sir." Daggit replied as though it was the most sensible order he'd heard all day.

* * *

"Captain," Danan spoke up, "sensors are detecting a Federation starship at the extreme edge of their range. They are accompanied by two Romulan Warbirds."

Macen turned, "Can you tell what they are doing?"

Danan shook her head, "I can't tell. We're too far away." She paused then frowned, "The Romulans are cloaking."

"What about the Federation vessel?" He asked.

"She's staying put."

"I think we should pay her a visit." Macen commented turning towards Derrico, "Raise shields and power the weapons."

"Yes, sir." Derrico replied happily.

"Ensign D'art, take us out of warp."

"Yes, sir." She replied, far less enthusiastically than Derrico. Beside her, T'Kir began to softly sing to herself. The Vulcan seemed to relish the thought of going into combat. _God, get this nut of the bridge._ D'art miserably thought.

"I heard that." T'Kir sang.

* * *

"Sir," Daggit's voice rang across the bridge, "Sensors have detected a vessel dropping put of warp."

Picard shifted in his chair, "Who is she?"

Daggit's voice shook with surprise, "She's one of ours, sir. It's the _Odyssey_."

* * *

"Sir," Derrico's voice wavered, "The Federation starship." All of the colour drained from his face, "It's the _Enterprise_."

Macen's jaw clenched, "Put her own screen."

The screen came to life. Inside its picture display lay the flagship of Starfleet. Macen had never seen the _Sovereign_-class before. He was amazed to see that its lines were almost as sharp as his own ship's.

_Although, _he mused, _it's about three times as large._

* * *

"Status of the _Odyssey_?" Picard asked, out his seat.

"Her shields are up and weapons armed." Daggit reported.

"Has she targeted us?" Riker asked.

"No, sir." Daggit replied.

Riker stood and moved to where Picard was standing, "She isn't making any moves. What do you think it means?"

Picard turned towards Troi, "Counsellor?"

"There is a lot of confusion and worry." Troi informed him.

"And the Romulans?"

"A sense of purpose."

"Let's see how they respond to a hail." Picard decided aloud, "Open a channel, Mr. Daggit."

* * *

"They're hailing us." Derrico announced.

"Let's see what they have to say." Macen replied.

* * *

Picard was again surprised by the image that appeared before him. He was familiar with the fact that El-Aurians were long-lived, but seeing a four hundred and twenty-seven year old man look as though the first four hundred years never occurred was unnatural. Macen's appearance vaguely reminded him of his own first officer. The ease with which he sat in the command chair marked a born leader.

"Greetings, Captain Macen." Picard said jovially, "What an unexpected surprise."

Macen's expression remained carefully neutral, "Indeed it is, Captain Picard."

"Is there any particular reason your defensive systems are activated?" Picard asked.

"We detected some anomalous readings on our approach. It is merely a precautionary measure." Macen explained.

"Now that you know what those readings are, perhaps you could power down your weapons." Picard suggested.

Macen's eyebrow quirked, "Who said the readings had been explained?"

"Traitor!" Daggit shouted, 'You betrayed us all."

Macen started at the voice. Picard spun, staring at his Tactical officer in outrage. Riker stood and approached his station. Picard returned his attention to the screen as Riker dealt with the outburst.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Captain." Picard said honestly.

"Rab Daggit." Macen muttered to himself, "He's still alive."

Picard was confused by Macen's shaken condition. Did he _know_ Daggit? How? When? Why hadn't he said anything? _Damn it all!_

A moment later, all hell broke loose.

* * *

"Romulan Warbirds de-cloaking!" Danan announced.

"Where?" Macen demanded.

"Port and Starboard of the _Enterprise_." Derrico called out.

"Engineering." Macen called into the comm, "Tarrik, can we go to maximum warp."

"Yes." Tarrik answered ruefully, "But I wouldn't recommend it."

"No choice." Macen replied sourly. He turned to Derrico, "Fire phasers starboard, quantum torpedoes port. Helm, plot an escape course along our original destination. Go to maximum warp on my command."

Derrico and D'art acknowledged their readiness in unison.

"Fire." He said.

* * *

"The Romulans have de-cloaked!" Riker declared from Tactical, "They're powering weapons."

"Power ours." Picard snapped off.

"The _Odyssey_ has fired!" Riker reported, "So have the Romulans."

* * *

The _Odyssey_ shook from the impacts on the shields.

"Damage report?" Macen asked.

"Shields at sixty percent." Derrico answered, "No other damage reported."

_Why do the shields always drop to sixty percent?_ Macen thought, aloud he said, "Execute warp drive."

Space warped around the ship as she accelerated to warp nine point nine.

* * *

"The _Odyssey _has exited the system at…warp nine point nine." Riker reported, not grimacing over the number as he said it.

"The Romulans are also departing." He continued, "They're powering down weapons and cloaking."

"Secure all stations." Picard ordered, "Stand down from red alert."

He turned towards Daggit, "My Ready room. Now!" he paused, "Commander Riker, will you join us as well?"

He turned to Perim, "Follow the _Odyssey's _warp trail, best possible speed."

He followed Riker and Daggit to his Ready Room. The door closed behind them with an ominous hiss.

"What the hell was that?" Picard demanded, whirling on Daggit.

Daggit's eyes narrowed, "I _know_ him, sir. Starfleet sent him to Angosia. He was sent to bring us into the Dominion War. He said we would receive treatment for the engineering they did to us. He _lied._"

"Did you receive treatment?" Picard asked coldly.

"Yes," Daggit admitted slowly, "But only after half my commando unit had died."

"Was Macen responsible for the delay?" Picard asked.

"Not directly, sir." Daggit answered, shuffling his feet. He averted his eyes.

"You will look at me when I am addressing you." Picard snapped, "It seems to me that you are blaming Captain Macen for things that were out of his control."

"But he said…"

"What he thought was the truth." Picard said sadly, "I think that both sides were manipulated by Starfleet Command."

Daggit remained silent for a long time then grudgingly he said, "That may be possible."

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant." Daggit left. Picard turned to Riker.

"I'm beginning to feel manipulated myself."

"I agree." Riker said grimly, "That situation with the Romulans was too pat. It was a trap."

"But for whom?" Picard asked, "That is the mystery that must be solved."

* * *

"Engineering, what's our status?" Macen asked.

"The warp core is starting to heat up." Tarrik reported, "We haven't had time to finish all our repairs."

"Understood." Macen replied, "Helm, drop us to warp six." D'art grunted as she obeyed.

Macen turned to Lisea, "Commander Danan, please join me in my Ready Room. Lt. Derrico, you have the bridge."

After they entered, Macen began angrily pacing, "What the hell was that?"

Danan's face was as grim as his mood, "I wish I knew."

Macen was stymied, "I cannot believe Picard was there. What was he doing with two Romulan Warbirds?"

Danan frowned, "Was he with them, or are we meant to think that he was?"

Macen shook his head in frustration, "I don't know. I have a hard time believing Picard would be involved. Especially not after his stance regarding the Baku relocation."

"It may have been a ruse." She warned.

"I doubt it." He replied, wearing a wry expression, "He commands too much respect from Guinnan to be that sort."

Danan snorted, "It's not as though you and Guinnan exactly see eye to eye."

"No." he admitted, "But we have always respected one another. I respect her judgement in this." His eyes met hers, "The _Enterprise_ never fired."

"He may have been worried about surviving records." She said, continuing in her role as devil's advocate.

"No." Macen answered with conviction, "The commander of the _Slipstream_ had no such convictions. I doubt that Picard would have either if he'd been involved."

"Do you want to try and contact them then?"

"No." he said with a sigh, "They were still sent here by someone in Command that wanted us observed or stopped. Until we know what the _Enterprise's _role here is, we can't afford to trust her."

"So the rules of engagement are?" she asked impatiently.

He chuckled at her, "Avoid if possible, hail if necessary."

"And if they shoot?" she asked darkly.

"We face that alternative if it arises." He said with finality.

She nodded assent, "Sounds fair enough."

"You take the bridge." He ordered, "I've some research to do that may shed some light on this."

Danan nodded and began to depart when Macen stopped her, "And Commander, inform me if the _Enterprise_ appears on our sensors."

She smiled as she stepped out. Macen sat down at his desk and activated the data retrieval systems. This was going to take work. With luck, they could avoid a crisis long enough for him to find what he was looking for.

* * *

Admiral Nechayev's sharp face appeared on Picard's private comm viewer in his Ready Room, "Greetings Admiral." He began politely.

"Captain, I don't have a great deal of time to waste on idle chit-chat," Nechayev replied impatiently, "please get to the point."

"I have just had a strange encounter with two Romulan Warbird's, and a starship that appears to be operating under your orders."

"You had a run-in with the _Odyssey_?" she asked sharply, "Her mission area is hundreds of light years from your assigned survey. How did you come to be in that region of space?"

_In for a penny_, Picard thought, "I was given orders by Admiral Jellico to intercept and investigate Captain Macen and his crew."

Nechayev rubbed her eyes, "What the hell is Eddie playing at?" She straightened up, facing Picard's image, "Captain, we've had our differences in the past, but you are an officer of considerable ability. I respect you and your integrity."

Picard was stunned by these admissions, but he opted to remain silent as Nechayev continued, "I am relying on that integrity now. What I am about to tell you Captain is of the utmost secrecy. Captain Macen is on a mission of vital importance. Any and all assistance you can give him will benefit the entire Federation."

"I shall do my best, but a clearer understanding of the situation would enable me to…"

"Captain, I cannot trust Starfleet's communication security enough to divulge anything at this time. When you next encounter Macen, invoke the Zenith protocol. He'll take you into his confidence after that." She paused, "And Captain, I must request that you do not inform Admiral Jellico on any of this."

Picard sighed, "I feared as much."

"I'll handle Jellico." Nechayev assured him, "You help Macen. He's one of the best, Picard. You just have to make…allowances."

"Understood." Picard replied as he deactivated the comm. He was certain that he didn't want to learn what sort of allowances would be required from him.


	5. Chapter 5

P'ris stared at the hologram displayed before her. It was a map, a map of every new Romulan outpost in the Beta Quadrant. She allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. It was quite the accomplishment and it was largely due to her efforts.

P'ris leaned against the railing separating her from the astrometric display. She stretched her supple muscles. Her hair fell in ringlets across her shoulders. She had shed her accursed fleet uniform for her typical garb: a black bodysuit with a silver vest.

She had been amused when her appearance had once been compared to the Ship's Counsellor aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_, Commander Deanna Troi. P'ris herself found such comparisons laughable. It had been intended as an insult. It had been one made in poor taste, since it could not be supported by reality.

P'ris had been raised by the Tal Shiar. It had been an instructive childhood. She had seen the limitations of her society in intimate detail. It had also granted her the tools with which to address some of these limitations.

Utilising secrets that had been long entrusted to the Tal Shiar, she had forced the Praetor to allow her her grand experiment. Recruiting from the disaffected elements of the Romulan Star Empire, she had enlisted scores of scientists, colonists and soldiers. P'ris had virtually founded her own empire. When the Tal Shiar had been broken during their abortive attempt to destroy the Founders, she had taken most of the remaining pieces and struck out in a new direction.

Her position within the Empire was still tenuous, secured only through bribery and blackmail. Her enemies vastly outnumbered her allies. It was ironic that her strongest supporters were within the Federation. Having created a haven for dissidents, she had agreed to allow the Federation to house their unwanted within her territory in exchange for certain items she could not obtain within the Empire's borders.

Her use for her "allies" had almost expended itself. She had obtained the materials and information she'd desired. Her motivation to co-operate with the Federation cabal that had supplied those items was at an end. In the meantime, she had discovered a new reason to break from her erstwhile partners.

She was founding her fledgling nation out of the very sort she of people that the Federation was handing her. Integrating aliens into Romulan society would have been a virtually impossible task. Although her colonists were Romulan, they were mostly young and impressionable. They could be persuaded to accept a thousand or so foreigners.

"Commander." The voice came from behind her. It was her second, Sub-Commander D'ionn. Like herself, D'ionn had rejected orthodox Romulan society. D'ionn had abandoned more than Romulan fashion sense and politics. P'ris had intimate experience in D'ionn's explorations into the alternative. They still engaged in occasional forays of discovery.

D'ionn wore her short, far shorter than the average Romulan male. It was a spiky tuft upon her head. Her upswept ears protruded from the fuzz. Genetic holdovers from a human captured by an ancestor during the Earth/Romulan Wars granted her a smooth forehead, green eyes, and pale skin.

"Yes, D'ionn?" P'ris responded.

"Commander Vetrik requests that you make contact with him." D'ionn reported.

P'ris detected the sulky quality of her lieutenant's voice. P'ris was disappointed. Vetrik had been enjoyable. She had detected D'ionn's growing possessiveness. She'd hoped it was a passing thing, apparently, her hopes were in vain.

D'ionn's behaviours were infecting the crew. Most of them were now engaged in "alternative" relationships. Some had grown quite militant about it and were espousing their deviancies as the norm. Although P'ris enjoyed the occasional tryst with D'ionn, it was not "normal" to her. She found the affections exchanged between many of her male officers to be disturbing. She mentally sighed. Perhaps she was too traditional, but she still found those males less…masculine, less virile somehow.

She shook such thoughts aside, "Inform Commander Vetrik I shall speak with him directly."

She could see the disappointment in D'ionn's eyes as she bowed her acknowledgement of her command. _Poor dear,_ P'ris mused, _she hasn't realised that I don't love her. What a little fool, _she laughed.

* * *

The _Odyssey_ remained in orbit over the moon newly designated as BU-479. BU-479 was a class M moon that supported a small, pre-warp industrial culture. The crew had hoped that it contained the internment camp they sought. They had been disappointed. It had looked promising after they had trailed a Romulan Warbird to the system and it had beamed several people off the ship.

"What do you think they wanted here?" D'art asked.

"A life." T'Kir answered sarcastically, "Or maybe a plain old roll in the hay. Why don't we ask someone in a similar predicament?" She gave D'art a pointed glare.

"At least I discriminate." D'art countered, "Unlike some."

T'Kir stuck out her tongue. There were chuckles across the bridge. They were silenced by a venomous glance T'Kir threw over her shoulder. Macen wore a pained expression.

"Children," he asked with strained patience, "are we through fighting?" Danan snickered from her station. No one else dared. Macen sighed loud enough for the entire bridge crew to hear.

"What's the report from the surface?" Macen asked.

"The Romulans seem to be engaged in a survey of the planet." T'Kir reported, "Either that, or they're the first Romulan tourists in history."

Macen closed his eyes for a moment.

"It was your idea to bring her aboard." Danan whispered.

"I heard that." T'Kir sing-songed.

_If it's not her telepathy,_ he thought sourly, _then it's her damn ears._

"I heard that too." She said grumpily.

"What about system traffic?" Macen asked Derrico.

"No ships are moving within the system." He reported.

Macen took a breath, "Helm, break orbit. Plot us a course to the nearest solar system."

"Aye, sir." D'art replied, her voice less enthusiastic than it had been a week ago when they had set out.

_Unless the Romulan border is a lot bigger on this side than it is in the Alpha Quadrant, then we're almost done looking._ Macen assured himself.

* * *

"Anything yet?" Picard asked as the _Enterprise _slipped into the BU-479 system.

"We have a several warp signatures." Data reported, "One Federation, several Romulan."

"Were they here at the same time?" Riker asked.

Data shook his head, "The decay in the trails indicates that they were here at separate intervals. Based upon the evidence, I would say the _Odyssey_ is discreetly tracking the Romulan ship."

Riker glanced towards Picard, "That seems likely. It's what we would do."

"Can you determine where they went?" Picard asked, "We must make contact with them as soon as possible."

"Sensors indicate that they entered the neighbouring solar system."

"Lt. Perim, plot your course. Warp factor eight." Picard dictated.

Seconds later, the _Enterprise_ was in warp space.

* * *

Derrico and Kort stepped out of the holodeck. Both wore traditional Klingon battle robes. Derrico was drenched in sweat. Kort smiled and slapped him on the back.

"You truly have the heart of a warrior, my young friend." Kort praised him.

Derrico replied through heavy breaths, "If that's your typical workout, no wonder you're in such good shape."

"I am in excellent shape!" Kort roared proudly, "Now, I think it is time to initiate you in the other virtues of the warrior."

"Other virtues?" Derrico asked sceptically. He'd just tried the first, and wasn't entirely sure if his body would ever forgive him.

"Yes." Kort replied, no room in his voice for argument, "We must proceed to the lounge."

"Why?' Derrico asked uneasily.

"For wenching and drinking of course!" Kort bellowed, "Why else?"

"Why else indeed?" Derrico muttered unhappily as Kort cajoled him along.

* * *

It was third watch aboard the _Odyssey_. Most of the regular bridge crew was on stand down. Macen, Danan, and T'Kir had opted to remain due to their greater than human endurance. Several junior officers nervously monitored their consoles. Lisea was assisting the ensign manning the Science station.

"Sir!" Ensign Manning shouted from tactical, "We have a vessel entering the system at warp eight!"

"Classification?" Macen asked, far more alert than he had been moments before.

"_Sovereign_-class starship." Manning reported, "It's the _Enterprise_!"

"Raise shields." Macen ordered calmly, "Red alert."

* * *

Derrico and Kort ran for the turbolift. They accidentally bowled over a couple in the hallway. The doors of the lift barely had time to open before they flew inside. Derrico was surprise that the lift wall squeaked as he bounced off of it.

To his chagrin, he discovered the "wall's" name was Julia D'art.

"I'm so sorry!" he stammered, "I didn't mean to…I shouldn't have…"

"He didn't mean to offend, if offence was taken." Kort cut him off, "He is a man of action, not words."

D'art smiled. She was still a bit dazed, but thought she was in one piece. If she discovered otherwise, _then_ she'd complain. Until then, it was best to smooth things over.

"No blood, no foul. Right?" she said as cheerily as she could manage.

"Right!" Kort bellowed before Derrico could react, "By _Kahless_, I like you people!"

"I'm so relieved." D'art muttered. Derrico smiled at her sarcasm.

* * *

"They have raised shields and manoeuvred to face us." Daggit reported, "But they have not powered their weapons."

"Hail them." Picard ordered.

* * *

"They're hailing us." Derrico announced.

'On screen." Macen ordered grimly.

* * *

Picard was startled to see the bridge configuration of the _Odyssey_ changed since his last communication with Macen, "Captain, I've been looking for you."

Macen gave him a wry smile, "I've sort of assumed that already. Any particular reason why?"

'To deliver a message from Admiral Nechayev." Picard answered, "I am ordered to invoke the Zenith Protocol."

Macen's face lost all trace of humour, "We'll lower our shields. You and your first officer can beam over in five minutes." The comm screen went blank.

"That certainly changed things." Riker commented with his usual ebullience.

"Yes," Picard agreed with some surprise, "it certainly has."

* * *

Riker and Picard stepped into the briefing room with apprehensive looks upon their faces. Macen supposed he couldn't blame them, he felt apprehensive himself. Danan sat at the table to Macen's right. They stood when the other captain and his first officer arrived.

Macen held out his hand. Picard took it firmly. Riker followed suit. Picard took Danan's hand in similar fashion, all business. Riker, though, took an extra second to appreciate her beauty.

Macen motioned towards the seats, "Please, take a seat." No one objected. Macen adopted a laconic air. Riker did likewise. Picard and Danan remained serious.

"Captain Macen," Picard began stiffly, "I am pleased to be meeting with you and Commander Danan, but I am afraid you have us at a disadvantage. I have been instructed to assist you in any way possible, but I have no idea what your mission is."

Macen and Danan exchanged glances. Macen took a deep breath and began the story of their mission. He noted that the colour drained from Picard's face during the telling. Riker's visage transformed itself into a dark masque of outrage.

Both men were suitably shaken by the story for Macen to feel comfortable with them as he concluded the tale. Picard stood and walked to the other side of the room. He was a man in a state of shock. Riker glowered at foes he could not reach.

"All this time." Picard murmured, "All this time, we have been sending people to…gulags. We've convinced ourselves we've built an enlightened society. But at what price?"

He turned to find Macen's cool eyes bearing down on him. "At what point does a free society close itself off and begin enslaving those that do not agree with it?"

"Is any society truly free?" Macen asked.

"We have the freedom to pursue our goals, to better ourselves." Picard defended, "We have rights that cannot be taken from us."

"They have been taken." Macen countered coolly, "Whether by war, fear, decree of the governors, or by the inaction of the citizenry, they have been taken. Our mission here is proof of that."

Picard looked somewhat taken aback as Macen continued, "It's a simple problem really. During times of crisis, how much freedom of speech is allowable? What is acceptable, and what is a threat to morale?"

Picard was aghast, "You support this?"

Macen shook his head, "Support, no. Understand, yes. Far too well I'm afraid." He leaned back in his chair, "All too often it is the choice of those with power to impose their views through force rather than employ a gentler means of persuasion."

"Sometimes during a crisis, it becomes necessary for that society to curtail certain liberties for the duration of that crisis." Picard countered.

"But to maintain a police force that actively investigates _all_ forms of dissent?"

"There's no actual proof of this Section 31's existence." Picard pointed out.

"Nothing that would be permissible in court at least." Macen replied ruefully. Seeing Picard and Riker's puzzled looks, he shrugged, "I've...encountered Section 31 before."

"I take from your tone they did not appreciate your last 'encounter'."

Macen smiled, "You could say that." His eyes narrowed as they focused on Picard's, "You don't trust me."

"I don't know you." Picard admitted, "Trust is a precious commodity, especially of these allegations are true and members of Starfleet and the Federation are involved. The situation is compounded by your role, seeing how..." his voice trailed off.

Macen laughed, "Seeing as how I'm a Maquis?"

"Yes." Picard replied uncomfortably, "Seeing as how you were a Maquis."

"I still am." Macen replied with steel in his voice, "I always will be."

Picard started. Riker began to look edgy. They were unsure how to respond. They sat silently, awaiting a clue.

"Our methods may have changed." Danan's smooth contralto broke the tense silence, "But our goals remain unchanged."

"To destroy the Cardassians?" Riker asked provocatively.

Danan chuckled, "No, Commander, to try and insure freedom."

"By any means possible?" Riker wouldn't let go.

"Not at all." Macen cut in, his voice passionate, "We've learned from the mistakes of our past. We're learning from the mistakes of our present. Grave mistakes are being made right now. We need to put a stop to it."

Picard was nonplussed for a moment, "I'm impressed." He admitted, "I was afraid you might endorse a vendetta."

"I understand the need to punish wrongdoers." Macen confessed, "But people should not be locked away just because they disagree with you."

Picard smiled warmly and retook his seat, "Now that we have achieved a degree of understanding, let us discuss how we can address the situation."

"The situation may be even more complicated." Danan informed them, "I've had time to analyse many of the subspace transmissions floating back and forth around here. Most if them are Romulan."

"That makes sense." Riker commented, "We are near their border."

Danan shook her head firmly, "No, Commander. The transmissions are from _this_ side of the border."

"You're saying the Romulan Empire is expanding further into the Beta Quadrant?" Picard asked.

Danan's voice was grim, "No. I'm saying the Romulans are expanding into the Beta Quadrant. There seems to be no sign of the Empire."

* * *

"Commander, we may have a problem." Vetrik's image said from the viewer in P'ris' cabin.

"What kind of problem, dear Vetrik?" she asked.

"The _Enterprise_ has tracked the _Odyssey_ down. They seem to be in communication with one another. Our ruse has failed."He informed her.

The pessimistic tome in his voice saddened her, "Vetrik, we knew that they would sort their differences out over time."

"I think they know about _us_, P'ris." He hissed.

"And if the do?" she asked lightly.

"Our colonies are not strong enough to counter a Federation invasion." He warned.

She laughed, "Vetrik, for shame. You sound like one of the Praetor's idiotic advisors. The Federation will not 'invade' us. Gods above, they'll likely support us in an inane effort to 'liberate' the Romulan masses and encourage better relations with the Star Empire."

"You don't find this threatening?" he asked, wearing a baffled expression.

"Vetrik, our people _want_ greater exposure to aliens. The want to experience lesser lifeforms. We have to give them that chance." She said outwardly. Inwardly, she thought, _And pray that they do not panic when they finally gain those experiences. If they do, the results will be far worse than anything the Praetor's lackwits could devise. It would be a crusade._

"Just monitor their activities, Vetrik." P'ris ordered, "Report to me if they do anything unexpected or approach one of our colonies."

Vetrik bowed, "Yes, Commander."

* * *

"How can there be Romulans out here, and not the _Romulan_ Empire?" Riker asked in exasperation.

Danan leaned forward, her eyes fierce, "I don't know that. What I do know, is that there are scads of subspace messages floating around here. They are in Romulan, they employ Romulan frequency modulation, and many of them are directed towards the Empire." Macen _almost_ pitied Riker as she continued, "What they do not employ is Romulan fleet encryptions or terminology. In fact, many of them are quite inflammatory."

"Inflammatory in what way?" Picard asked.

"They are focused on political and social change." Danan answered calmly, "Denunciations of societal stagnation and mandated orthodoxy."

"So, they are the work of dissidents?" Picard asked with an ironic tone.

Danan thought for a moment, then smiled, "You could say that."

"You should feel right at home." Riker jested. Picard gave him a longsuffering glance.

"It does indeed appear as though our puzzle has grown in complexity." Picard commented.

"Yes, it has." Macen said, an edge to his voice, "It has also dictated that we should proceed more decisively."

"What do you suggest?" Picard asked.

Macen's eyes met Picard's, "I think you should return to Starfleet Command. Get them prepared for this information. Alert the Federation Council."

"What about you?" Picard asked, not wanting to accept what he was hearing.

"We'll find the camps, and try to gather conclusive evidence of who's responsible." Macen told him.

Picard recognised Macen's tone. It was the tone of a commander that had made his decision regarding his next course of action. Picard hated to leave him out here alone, but recognised the underlying logic behind the request. Macen needed an ally within Federation borders that could insure his arriving alive at Earth with the evidence.

"Very well, Captain." Picard consented, "We'll depart immediately."

They exchanged handshakes again before the _Enterprise _officers departed. Lisea glanced towards Brin, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Was he what you expected?" she asked.

He snorted, "No. He surprised me. I can see why Guinnan respects him."

She put her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder, "I hope so. We may have just put our lives in his hands."

* * *

The chime of the comm drug P'ris out of a fitful sleep. Blearily, she reached for the display next to her bed. Her hand passed before it, activating it. Vetrik's face lay within its confines.

"Yes?" she asked irritably.

"The two Federation starships have separated." Vetrik reported, "The _Enterprise_ is headed back in the direction she came."

"And the _Odyssey_?" she asked nervously.

"Headed for Sybok III."

_Damn them!_ "Understood. Set course for Sybok, but do not engage them." She commanded, "I am en route. I will deal with them."

She released an angry breath as the comm went dark. _Why did the bastards have to go there?_ She knew what they were searching for. She was prepared to give it to them, as long as they pledged not to interfere in her plans.

She flicked the intercom on, "Bridge, disengage cloak. Set course for Sybok, warp eight."

"Yes, Commander." She heard in reply.

P'ris settled back down in her bed, disturbed that she alone occupied it. None of the males aboard her ship were interested in "normal" relations. _Curse D'ionn's influence!_ D'ionn would have been more than willing, but although P'ris found their occasional forays enjoyable, they did nothing to…satisfy her.

* * *

The _Odyssey_ dropped out of warp in the Sybok system. Intercepted communications had informed them that the Romulans were aware of their presence. No ships had appeared to challenge them yet, and no communications had been sent. Macen rubbed his beard while he tried to figure out why.

"Are sensors detecting _anything_?" Macen asked, perplexed.

"No, sir." Derrico answered. The wary edge in his voice was greater than his norm. He could tell the situation disturbed the Tactical officer as well. "I suggest we raise shields." Derrico announced.

"That won't be necessary." Macen replied. _At least not yet_, he added to himself.

"We are receiving a voice only transmission from the third planet." Derrico reported, "They are requesting that we hold position here."

"Very well." Macen replied with a frustrated air, "Full stop."

"Full stop, aye." D'art called out as she implemented the order.

"I wonder why here?" Danan wondered aloud, "We're too far away for planetary based weaponry. We'll be able to detect any uncloaked ship's approach. Any cloaked ship will have to reveal itself before they can activate weapons. It doesn't make sense."

"I agree." Macen replied, "But I also don't want an incident because we don't like their rules. We may very well be in their territory. Let's act like guests, not invaders."

"Warbird de-cloaking off the port bow!" Derrico shouted, "Raising shields."

"Belay that." Macen yelled, "Hail them, but do not power weapons or shields."

"I hope y'know what you're doing." Danan murmured.

* * *

"The enemy vessel is hailing us." Vetrik's weapons officer informed, then added incredulously, "They have not powered their shields or weapons."

Vetrik nodded calmly, "Receive transmission."

Brin appraised the Romulan that appeared before him. He was fairly young for a Romulan officer of his rank. He could not have been more than sixty or seventy years old. His expression was one of curiosity, not the usual haughtiness his race specialised in.

"Hello Commander." Macen said in a friendly manner, "It is an honour to meet you. This is an unexpected surprise, since I was unaware of any Romulan settlements out here."

"You are correct." Vetrik replied with a tinge of aloofness, "There are _no_ Romulan settlements out here."

Macen's face reflected the confusion he felt at the apparent paradox, "Commander, our sensors can detect several settlements upon the third planet of this system. Are you saying they are not Romulan settlements?"

"Again, Captain," Vetrik answered with the smugness of some teachers towards especially slow students, "you are correct."

"So whose settlements are they?" Macen cut straight to the point.

"They are ours." Vetrik replied cryptically.

Macen was tempted to have Derrico fire several quantum torpedoes up their aft, "And who might you be?"

"The Rihansu." Vetrik answered proudly.

Macen bit off his retort of, "And who the hell are they?" Instead he merely replied, "I see. I am sorry that we have encroached into your territory. If you will give us details regarding your borders, we will amend our navigational charts accordingly. I would also like to extend the hope that a diplomatic envoy would be received in the near future."

Vetrik leaned back in his chair stunned. _This_ wasn't how Federation types were supposed to act. They were expected to act cocky, arrogant, and overly sure of their own superiority. This attitude of respect had taken him completely off-guard.

"Sir!" his weapons officer hissed, "We can't give them the charts. That will give them the position of all our colonies. They'll destroy us."

Vetrik motioned for the officer to be silent. He smiled for the benefit of the viewer, "I will pass your offer to my superior. She will be here shortly. You can discuss the particulars of your situation with her."

Macen took a deep breath, "Very well. We'll await your signal."

* * *

"Sir, I must protest." Derrico announced quietly.

Macen stood and faced him, "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Derrico had the decency to flush, "Sir, I just don't think it's wise to sit here with our shields down."

Macen nodded, "I understand, but answer me this: who's the invader here?"

"Sir! The Romulans are originally from Romulus."

"Actually, they're originally from Vulcan." Macen corrected him, then reminded him, "And I'm from the Delta Quadrant. Does that mean I'm less entitled to call the Federation home?"

Derrico became completely flustered. Danan broke the silence, "I think we need find out more about these references to the 'Rihansu'."

T'Kir sniggered.

"Something you'd like to share with the whole class?" Macen asked with equal opportunity sarcasm.

T'Kir rolled her eyes, "It's simple. In the ancient Romulan, back when it was known as Ancient Vulcan, Rihansu was the name for the settlers that humans later named Romulans."

"When did you become an expert on Romulans?" Macen asked in surprise.

"Oh, please." T'Kir responded with false modesty, "It was an easy one."

Macen shook his head, "Whatever. Good work." He shifted his attention to Lisea, "We may have a Romulan 'grass-roots' movement here."

She still looked dubious, "Maybe. We've seen stranger things."

"Like what?" T'Kir asked sceptically.

"Like the Unjoined Separatists, for instance." Danan replied.

"Never heard of them." T'Kir said, slightly confused.

"Be grateful." Lisea muttered darkly.

"Okay." Macen said gruffly, "Can we focus?"

A relieved titter spread across the bridge. Danan gave him an apologetic, if amused, expression. T'Kir almost always looked amused, but rarely apologetic. The same held true even now. Out of the corner of his eye, he realised that D'art's expression was rather lifeless. He shrugged it off. He had far more vibrant personalities to deal with at the moment. Something nagged at his subconscious, but he couldn't determine what or why.

"We don't know how long we have to wait, so I suggest we commence with the watch change." Macen announced. There nods of agreement all around. Derrico scowled, but remained silent. D'art's expression remained inscrutable.

* * *

A loud, intermittent slurping punctuated the cafeteria. Every patron either stared unabashedly, or valiantly tried to ignore it. Brin couldn't believe that he and Lisea had volunteered to sit next to this culinary apocalypse. Tarrik hadn't begun his meal before they sat down he reminded himself. If Tarrik had been eating, the odds of his sitting here would have been geometrically reduced.

Tarrik's small hands were capable of wielding utensils, but like most Tellarites, he abhorred them. A Tellarite believed that any task worth doing got one's hands dirty. A monumental task included getting one's face, arms, upper torso, and preferably the lower, as dirty as the hands. Consuming a meal was the most monumental task conceivable in the cultural lexicon.

This knowledge did not make the witnessing of such an event any easier. Tarrik was almost obsessive about his hygiene. Others aboard doubted it only because they applied their cultural standards to what a clean odour should be. Macen was inclined to agree with the critics where meals were concerned.

"So, Captain." Tarrik glubbed between mouthfuls, "How much longer do you think we'll be here under the Romulan nose?"

Brin looked to Lisea for support. She gave him a wry smile. Macen sighed. He was on is own.

"We're here waiting for someone to approve the transfer of starcharts containing the boundaries of these 'Rihansu'." He explained patiently.

"Well," Tarrik pondered aloud, "it's not as though we couldn't just steal the information out of their computers."

Macen sighed again, "We should at least give them the chance to co-operate."

"They're Romulans." Tarrik protested.

"Rihansu." Danan corrected.

"Romulans, Rihan…whatevers." Tarrik grew louder, "The point is, they can't be trusted."

"Why not?" Macen asked.

"Because they're Romulans!" Tarrik said in exasperation.

"Rihansu." Danan corrected impatiently.

"They refer to themselves as something different than 'Romulan'." Macen explained carefully, "Perhaps they act differently than Romulans."

"Once a Romulan, always a Romulan." Tarrik argued, "These Romulans are no different, skulking about with cloaking devices."

"Rihansu." Danan repeated with a dangerous edge to her voice.

"They haven't done anything threatening." Macen reminded him, "Why shouldn't we give them a chance to prove themselves?"

"Give them a chance?" Tarrik scoffed, "These Romulans are going to…aaaggghhh!"

Danan came out of her chair and grabbed Tarrik's collar, "They are Rihansu! Not Romulans, got it?"

Tarrik nodded weakly. Danan threw him back into his chair. She sat down with a huff. Tarrik glanced towards Macen who stared at him coolly.

"As has been pointed out, they are Rihansu." Macen said evenly, "Why shouldn't we give them the same chance we would any other race?"

* * *

T'Kir sought out Marc Berent. She found him buried in Hydroponics. He was copiously studying a fern of some sort. She found the way he constantly tapped notes into his padd amusing.

"Hi there." She said.

"Waaah!" he shouted as he leapt to his feet.

She laughed, "I'm sorry. I thought you'd heard me."

"No." he panted, "I didn't." then suspiciously, "What are you doing here?"

Her eyes had a hungry look to them, "Why do you think?"

"Oh, God." He murmured, backing away. His eyes were wide with the fear of stalked prey. T'Kir's eyes narrowed in the manner of the predator about to spring. When she sprang, he surrendered to her hungers without a single protest, although, there were a few screams.

* * *

Kort stepped out of Sickbay. _By Kahless,_ he thought, _I hate it there_. He disapproved of the humans that came in complaining over various ailments. If he were in the Empire, most of them would have been the laughingstock of the Mess Hall that evening for their insignificant whining. _If only_, he mused wistfully, _I was in the Empire._

He was here as a repayment of an honour debt to Leonard McCoy. If it had not been McCoy that had summoned him, he would have laughed in their face. Although he had to admit to himself that McCoy's tale of a ship full of potential traitors had appealed to him. He had made it a point to visit virtually every section and department on "medical" pretences in order to evaluate the crew.

He had gained a great respect for Brin Macen. Both his acceptance of the ritual struggle between doctor and patient and his handling of the Romulan saboteur had won his approval. The Federation most likely didn't realise what a warrior they had in their ranks. He shook his head sorrowfully. They rarely comprehended such things.

Kort noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and stepped into an alcove. D'art was coming out of Auxiliary Control. That struck Kort as odd. The Helmsman was off duty, why would she be in a restricted area?

He observed her as she glanced furtively down the corridors. He had to lean back, blocking his own view. He heard her footsteps as they went away from him. He looked around the reinforcing strut he had hidden behind. She was gone. Finally, he had something to investigate.

* * *

"Captain," Derrico's voice rang over the comm, "please come to the bridge immediately."

Macen exchanged a glance with Danan. She gave him a wan smile and a shrug. Macen sighed. Derrico had stayed on the bridge when he'd ordered everyone to change shifts. He didn't envy the Tactical officer the reprimand he'd receive from Danan. Then, it would be his turn to rip the lieutenant a new orifice.

He stood and held out a hand for Danan. A few crewmen's eyes went a little wide at this. A few of the Federation's egalitarian virtues irritated Macen, and he made gestures like this in defiance of the popular unpopularity of them. Lisea accepted his offer with a smirk and followed him out of the Mess.

"You need to stop playing with their head s like that." She chided, "You know very well that my society was even more ideologically opposed to differences between the sexes then humans."

Macen smirked in reply, "What you Trills opposed was discriminating between the sexes, not treating them with respect."

Lisea punched him in the shoulder, "That's _shiznit_ and you know it."

He laughed, "They don't know that."

"They can learn." She sing-songed.

They had reached the turbolift doors. Brin turned to face her, "You wouldn't?"

Her smile was positively wicked, "In a heartbeat."

"What do you want?" he asked with a sigh.

"Nothing you won't mind conceding to me." She said, shoving him into the lift as the doors opened.

* * *

Their embrace ended as the lift slowed to a stop. The doors opened and they stepped onto the excited furore of the bridge. T'Kir had beaten them here, but her hair was more unruly then ever and her uniform jacket was missing. Macen didn't even want to know how that'd happened

"Sir." Derrico's snapped, the man looked like he'd just arrived on a parade ground rather than manning his station for the last eleven hours, "The Rihansu have made contact. They wish to speak with you."

"Very well, Lieutenant. Put them on screen."

P'ris appeared on the screen. Macen was struck on how much she violated the stereotype of a Romulan. She wore a smile that couldn't be called warm, but at least it wasn't hostile. If they could avoid outright conflict, that would be a radical upshot for potential relations.

"Hello Captain Macen." P'ris began without prologue, "What shall I do with you?"

Her voice rang with faint amusement, Macen played up to this, "I suppose I could make a suggestion or two, but they would all be fairly moot points."

Her laugh was genuine, "A man that recognises the reality of a situation."

"What's not to recognise?" Macen asked, "I could vaporise your ship, and most of Vedrik's ship before either of you could damage my own."

Her smile became wry, "Yes. We scanned your armaments. Quite impressive. So, what do you plan to do?"

"Talk with you." Macen explained, "Can I come aboard?"

P'ris looked a little flustered, then she relaxed, "You and your first officer can both come aboard."

"Thank you." Macen replied, "We'll see you shortly."

Macen turned to Danan, "Are you ready?"

"Sir…" Derrico began, but was cut off by a slashing motion of Macen's hand.

"Don't say it." Macen warned. He turned to T'Kir.

"You're in command while we're gone."

T'Kir's eyes bulged almost as wide as Lisea's. A choking sound escaped Danan's throat. T'Kir's eyes narrowed.

"I heard that."

Danan held her hands up defensively. Macen gave a thin smile.

"Just don't do what he would." He ordered, jerking a thumb in Derrico's direction.

"Hey!"

"Stow it, Lieutenant." Macen said as he and Danan left the bridge. They stopped the lift on C deck. They proceeded straight to Macen's quarters to pick up a few items. They emerged from his quarters wearing thigh holsters, each containing a pulsar pistol. Their next stop was Transporter Room Two.

* * *

They materialised into the midst of three armed Rihansu. They held disrupters on their "guests". A Rihansu woman stepped into the room. She had the shortest, spikiest hair either of them had ever seen on a Vulcanoid. Even more surprising was the fact it was died a peroxide blonde.

Macen resisted the urge to make a smart remark. He was studying her when he made an abrupt realisation: she was studying Danan. It was more than a professional interest. It was a blatantly sexual stare.

Danan held the woman's gaze evenly. Her eyes showing neither interest nor scorn. Macen knew of Lisea's own opinion regarding such things. She wasn't threatened, but she wasn't interested. Trill society was much more lenient than most regarding homosexuality than most owing to the influence of most of the symbiot's switching sexuality when they changed hosts. Danan had been unusual in the fact that the vermiform had decided it preferred female hosts exclusively. Previous hosts had dallied into such affairs before. Lisea had those memories at her disposal and had no desire to repeat them.

"We are here to speak with Commander P'ris." Macen informed the female Rihansu. Her eyes turned towards him. The cold contempt in them disappointed him. She'd condemned him without meeting him.

"This way." She snapped and led a path out of the transporter room. Lisea gave him a shrug. They followed the churlish officer. The three guards followed them. They finally stopped at a door which Macen assumed led to the Commander's Quarters.

The door opened, the officer motioned for Macen to stand back as she entered, "The prisoners have arrived." She announced.

"They're not prisoners D'ionn. They are…" P'ris' voice went silent as she looked up from her desk, "Gods above! What have you done to your hair?"

"You don't like it?" D'ionn asked, hurt shading her voice.

"I am…just not used to it yet." P'ris answered diplomatically. She shook her head, "Please show our guests in."

D'ionn snapped her fingers and the guards shoved Macen and Danan into the room.

"Stop that!" P'ris shouted angrily, "Apologise at once!"

The guards murmured insincere condolences and left. They thrust the Starfleet officer's weapons in their direction after receiving a stern glare from P'ris.

P'ris looked truly chagrined, "I'm sorry. We are not used to having guests aboard."

"I had hardly noticed." Macen replied dryly.

P'ris laughed at his undisguised sarcasm, "Point taken, Captain. Please have a seat." She gestured at the chair across from her. D'ionn assumed a standing position with her hands behind her back slightly behind her commander's left. Danan did likewise behind Macen, but to the right.

"I could not help but notice that you are both armed." P'ris commented, "I have never seen sidearms of that design. Where are they from?"

"They are from my homeworld." Macen answered, "El-Auria."

"You didn't seem quite…human." P'ris commented.

"Thank you." Macen replied evenly, "May we get the negotiations underway?"

"Straight to the point aren't you?" P'ris asked with a trace of amusement, "Very well, you asked for starcharts laying out our territorial claims?"

Macen nodded, "Yes. I was also hoping to persuade you into revealing the location of the Federation prison."

D'ionn started at this. P'ris remained impassive. She was impressed. Neither Macen nor Danan had given the faintest indication of this topic arising. She chided herself for underestimating them.

"What makes you think I would know anything about that?" P'ris asked elusively.

Macen smiled. It was not a nice smile, she thought. It was the smile of a predator taunting its prey. He wasn't the typical Federation fool.

"The prison is located near Romulan space in the Beta Quadrant." He said nonchalantly, "I have a feeling that it lies near to your borders as well. I would further surmise that you have assisted its founders on occasion." His eyes grew cold, "Such as when you tried to dupe both the crews of the _Enterprise_ and the _Odyssey_ into thinking of each other as opponents."

"How could you…" D'ionn stammered before being silenced by a chopping motion by P'ris.

"Commander Danan is quite accomplished at wresting details out of the sensors." Lisea gave the Rihansu a cold smile upon hearing Brin's compliment.

_Demons below!_ P'ris thought, _They're a deadly pair._

"If what you say is true," P'ris began slowly, "why would you risk believing anything that I tell you?"

"Two reasons." Macen explained without a hint of victory, "First of all, your entire colonial movement seems to be based upon dissatisfaction with typical Romulan life. Based upon that, I'm willing to wager that you aren't prejudiced against foreign contact or co-operation." His smile was wintry as he amended, "At least not yet."

"And the other reason?" P'ris asked, a sense of doom overwhelming her.

"I could blow both your ships out of space with marginal damage to my own." He stated matter-of-factly, "We both know it. Co-operation leaves both sides healthier and happier."

P'ris weighed her options. There were too damn few of them. Macen knew it as well she did. She had to give him credit, he wasn't smug about it.

"Very well." She exhaled, "I will show you where they are."

D'ionn exploded at that moment.

* * *

"Any word from the away team?" T'Kir asked.

"No." Derrico growled.

_Poor baby,_ she thought, _he doesn't like being supplanted by the ship's "psycho"._ She smiled victoriously, _Too bad, cupcake. Get used to it._

She knew Derrico wasn't the only one that was tense. D'art had practically become a board since Macen's departure. At first, T'Kir had assumed it was due to concern. In that she was correct, she surmised, but concern over something other than the captain. T'Kir had come to the conclusions she had been mistaken in her original assessment that D'art was attracted to Macen. She was far more complicated than that.

T'Kir promised herself that she'd delve more into D'art's affairs after Macen and Danan returned. _Hell,_ she mused, _I hope I can prove young Ensign D'art does like him, just to piss Lisea off._

* * *

"Nooooo!" D'ionn screamed as she tore at her holster, liberating the disrupter secured within it.

Danan was slightly faster. She had her pulsar pistol out and fired at D'ionn before the enraged Rihansu could aim. The yellow flash of light caught D'ionn in the left shoulder. Unfortunately, the disrupter was in her right hand. She squeezed the trigger reflexively, firing the pistol. An emerald beam of energy seared into P'ris' side.

P'ris cried out in pain. D'ionn moved towards the door, using P'ris as a shield. Macen had gained his feet, pistol drawn. Danan was tracking D'ionn's movements with her pistol.

The door to the quarters opened. The three armed Rihansu guards burst in, weapons ready. Lisea pivoted and fired. The first shot caught the lead guard in the chest.

"Kill them!" D'ionn yelled.

The two remaining guards opened fire. Macen and Danan ducked. Sparks showered over them. P'ris fell to the floor.

She was still conscious, "Hold your fire!" she yelled hoarsely to the guards.

One ceased. The other aimed at her instead. Brin and Danan responded in unison. Both guards fell as yellow flashes of energy cut through them.

Macen covered the door while Danan went to P'ris and examined her.

"She'll live." Lisea called out.

"Are you certain?" P'ris asked dryly through clenched teeth.

Danan's smile was warm, "It's a flesh wound. A regenerator will repair the damage."

"How did you beat D'ionn at firing first?" P'ris asked in amazement.

Danan's face went red and she shrugged, "I knew she was going to do it. When she finally made the decision, I started to draw first."

P'ris' eyes went a little wide at that, then she laughed, "You are very dangerous."

Danan's smile turned wry, "If you only knew."

"Can she move?" Macen asked sharply.

"I think so." Danan answered in tone that stated the she _shouldn't_.

"Good." He said, looking nervously down the corridor, "We have about a dozen Rihansu coming straight at us."

"Close the door." P'ris ordered, "Get me up to the desk."

Macen complied. Danan helped her into the chair. P'ris toggled several controls. A distinct clicking sound announced the door's locking.

"That will take them some time to cut through. It is protected by several force fields." P'ris explained.

Macen's face broke out into a daredevil grin, "What other surprises do you have?"

"Not many, I'm afraid." P'ris answered in disgust, "I never exactly expected a mutiny."

"I suggest you start planning from now on." Macen replied mirthlessly.

P'ris glanced towards Danan, "Is he always this way?"

Lisea chuckled ruefully, "You really have _no_ idea."

"Are you two done bonding?" Macen asked impatiently, "We need to get out of this room so we can deal with D'ionn."

P'ris gave him a feral smile, "Oh, I think we shall leave this room. D'ionn will pay for her treachery."

* * *

"Commander Vetrik," D'ionn shouted at the main viewer, "you _must_ surrender authority to me. Commander P'ris is being held hostage. I have assumed command of this vessel. Since this is the flagship of the Rihansu fleet, that makes me Commander of the fleet. In that capacity, I am ordering you to open fire on the Federation vessel."

Vetrik's response was a dry chuckle, "You really don't have any military experience, do you?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything." She huffed.

"It means little girl, that as the next senior officer in this sector, that _I_ assume command of the fleet." He informed her. He made no effort to hide his derision of her.

"Is Commander P'ris alive?" he asked.

"Who knows what those monsters have done to her?" she answered irritably, "That Federation bitch shot me! I can only imagine what she's doing to the Commander."

Vetrik raised a sceptical eyebrow, "I am certain that you have quite an…impressive imagination in regards to what you yourself would do to the Commander."

D'ionn's emerald flush told him what he wanted to know. P'ris' predicament was a result of this trollop's jealousy. He vowed he would kill her personally if her impetuousness caused P'ris' death. She would die even if P'ris lived, just for daring to presume ownership over the woman he craved.

"My first order, _Sub-Commander_, is that you stand down and contact the Federation captain."

He saw the defiance in her eyes and could have spoken the words she uttered before she said them, "I am afraid I cannot comply. I must destroy those that harmed my Commander."

The view screen went blank. She would now undoubtedly fire on the Federation starship. The question was: would they _both_ fire on him. The Federation ship surely would after that slut fired upon them. He had no idea if she would fire on him.

"Communications," he said, making a decision, "raise the _Odyssey_. I wish to speak with her acting commander."

* * *

"Captain!" Derrico shouted, "The lead Warbird is raising shields and locking disrupters on us."

_Oh, hell!_ T'Kir snapped off orders, "Raise shields! Power weapons. D'art prepare for evasive manoeuvres."

* * *

A shudder ran through the cabin. P'ris stood up, horror on her face.

"That stupid…_c'elnt_!" she shouted in outrage, "She's firing at someone."

* * *

The _Odyssey_ shuddered as her shields shrugged off a disrupter blast. T'Kir held on to the armrests of the command chair. The only good news she'd received in the last few minutes was that only _one_ of the Warbirds had opened fire. She wondered how long her fortune would last.

"Captain, incoming message." Derrico announced.

_Not very long_, she thought glumly, aloud she said, "Put it through."

"This is Commander Vetrik. I am the commander of the Warbird that has not initiated hostilities with you. Please target your weapons on the co-ordinates I will provide." A disembodied voice spoke.

"Why should I?" T'Kir asked caustically.

"Because I wish to stop the other ship with minimal loss of life." Vetrik explained patiently, "It may also spare your captain and executive officer."

"All right we'll do it.' T'Kir growled, "Send us the co-ordinates."


	6. Chapter 6

The deck and walls shuddered. The lights flickered. Distant explosions echoed throughout the corridors. The air was no longer still, a sharp wind rose, then fell. The hull breach had been sealed.

"Well, that was interesting." Macen muttered.

Macen, Lisea, and P'ris were crawling through an access tunnel similar to a Jeffries Tube. It had been designed as a hidden route through the ship for the Commander's use. Monitors and sensors watched every compartment from these labyrinths. The system had been designed in the eventuality of a mutiny. They were finally serving their intended purpose.

"The shields were struck by both phasers and disrupters." P'ris observed, "That means Vetrik hasn't sided with that traitor D'ionn."

"That would be a good thing." Danan replied dryly, "We seem to be a tad short of allies aboard this ship."

"Sad, but true." P'ris murmured bitterly.

"Where are we headed?" Macen asked from the rear of the procession. His voice was tainted with impatience. Danan's mouth tightened around the corners. She knew that Brin hated small places. This access tunnel was about as small as he could handle for an extended period of time.

"We're headed for the secondary transporter." P'ris answered.

"Can we transport through the shields?" Danan asked in surprise.

"Yes." P'ris answered, "It requires an authorisation code. Only I have the code."

"Must be nice." Macen quipped from behind Danan, "To build ships around a siege mentality."

P'ris' face assumed a chagrined expression, but she remained silent. She led the way for several hundred metres. It was slow going. It felt as though they had been crawling for hours when they reached the access panel they sought. P'ris activated a small monitor and studied its display for a moment.

"There is only one guard." She said with a sense of satisfaction, "I know her. She may assist us."

"I hope so." Danan replied ominously, "For her sake."

P'ris ignored Danan's veiled threat and concentrated on the panel instead. She thumbed a release and the panel detached itself from the bulkhead. It fell outward, clattering on the deck. The guard spun, aiming her disrupter at the sound.

P'ris crawled out of the tunnel with her hands displayed in front of her, "Don't shoot, Centurion."

The guard was confused, "Commander?"

P'ris nodded, trying to project more confidence then she currently felt, "Yes, it's me."

"You're wounded!" the Centurion observed with alarm.

P'ris glanced down at the green stained hole in her uniform. Danan had applied a pressure bandage and a salve that stimulated cellular regeneration. It was still a half measure, merely concerned with stanching blood flow. The scar would be wicked to behold.

"I am all right." P'ris reassured the Centurion, "As are my saviours."

The Centurion's mouth opened questioningly. She sensed the movement in the access before she saw it. Her grip on her disrupter tightened as Danan crawled out of the tiny space. She seemed on the verge of a conniption when Macen followed.

"Stand easy." P'ris ordered. The steel in her voice tempered the Centurion's mood. She hesitated, then holstered her disrupter. P'ris smiled in approval.

"We need to set up the transporter so we can beam over to Vetrik's ship." P'ris announced.

Macen cocked his head slightly to the side, "No." P'ris and Danan turned and stared at him. He smiled, "I have a better idea."

"What idea?" Danan asked warily.

"We transport to the bridge and re-take the ship." Macen explained.

"Right." Danan snorted.

"Wait." P'ris interjected, "It may be possible."

They both looked to her for an explanation, "We can scan the bridge and find out where everyone is. It will not be a blind jump."

"We need to distract them while we materialise." Macen interjected, "Do you have anything up to the task?"

P'ris weighed the options, "Yes. We have luminescent grenades. We can set the timers and beam them over. They will blind everyone while you materialise."

Macen broke into a feral smile as Danan responded, "That should work perfectly." She paused, then added sombrely, "You do realise that most of your bridge compliment will be killed?"

P'ris sighed, "A necessity, I fear."

Danan shrugged, "Just so there are no misunderstandings."

P'ris' eyes widened. The hardness in Macen and Danan's eyes belied any belief she had previously held regarding the Federation's softness. It was apparent that these two would readily kill if they felt the situation warranted it. It was a rather militant attitude for a supposedly utopian society. It was also one she could respect under these circumstances.

"How much time will you need in preparation?" P'ris asked.

"We can go once the scans are complete and the grenades have activated." Macen replied.

"Very well." She took a deep breath, "I shall be ready then as well."

"No." Macen's reply was terse.

P'ris' mouth opened. She glanced towards Lisea. She found no support in Danan's face. Danan's eyes had gone hard and cold. She was committed in her support of her commander.

"Why?" P'ris asked sourly.

"You're wounded." Macen replied evenly, "You are also the commanding officer of this vessel. You need to be alive, in case our attempt fails."

She stared at them. Her defiance melted in the face of the logic of his words. She stood a better chance of rallying her fellow Rihansu against the mutineers. If she died, Vetrik might also attack the Federation ship. His vessel would not survive such an encounter.

"You are correct." She conceded, "I will begin the scans."

* * *

"That seems to have taken care of their weapons array." Derrico reported.

"Do you confirm Commander Vetrik?" T'Kir asked the viewer.

The Rihansu broke into a relieved smile, "Yes, Captain. I concur."

"Their shields are holding." Derrico reported.

"Yes." Vetrik conceded, "The shields are a separate system. We have to destroy the emitters…or overload the drive."

"That would be fun to watch," T'Kir commented, "but that wouldn't get our commanders back."

Vetrik looked disturbed by the comment, "No…it wouldn't."

"Has anyone heard from them?" T'Kir asked in frustration.

"No." Vetrik answered.

T'Kir's face lit up, "Then maybe we should just blow them to hell."

* * *

"Beaming grenades…now!" P'ris announced, "Assume your stations on the transport pads."

Brin and Danan hopped up to the pads. A moment later, the world shimmered into non-existence. When reality regained cohesion, the scenery had changed dramatically. They were on the bridge, surrounded by half-blinded Rihansu.

They had beamed in with their weapons drawn and ready in two-handed grips. Macen shot the helmsman first. Danan turned and killed the tactical officer. Macen fired twice more, each burst catching another bridge officer in the chest. Danan walked to the auxiliary station consoles and began shooting the Rihansu manning those posts.

Macen walked to the seat of command. D'ionn's vision was clearing and her face twisted into a masque of rage as she recognised him. She came to her feet and her hand dropped towards her holster. Macen fired.

D'ionn collapsed onto the deck. Her face was a charred pit in her skull. He calmly surveyed the rest of the bridge. The surviving Rihansu had thrown aside their weapons and were standing in a corner under Danan's watchful eye.

Macen toggled the intercom switch on the Commander's chair, "Commander P'ris, the bridge is secure. You may transport at any time."

A moment later, P'ris materialised on the bridge. She took in the carnage that had been unleashed with a resolute gaze. She had accepted the deaths of her personnel before she had transported Macen and Danan. The corpses represented no sense of guilt for her.

She turned to where Macen and Danan had the surviving bridge complement under guard, "You may release them."

Macen glanced over his shoulder, "Are you certain?"

"They can prove their loyalty by lowering the shields and contacting our sister ship and your vessel and assuring them that we have no hostile intentions." She answered with a razor smile.

The crew wasted no time in proving themselves to their Commander.

* * *

Macen, Danan, P'ris, and Vetrik sat gathered around the conference table in the _Odyssey's_ Briefing Room. Macen and Lisea had both been surprised by Vetrik's joy at seeing P'ris alive. Even now, he had his hand on hers. P'ris seemed to draw strength from this.

P'ris smiled wanly, "What now?"

Macen exchanged a grin with Danan, "We were hoping you'd still provide us with charts outlining your colonial boundaries."

P'ris either snorted or laughed, "That is the least I can do for you."

Macen's gaze hardened, "There is another service you could provide."

Vetrik tensed, but P'ris soothed him with a pat on his hand, "No. He is correct. It is the least we can do."

She cocked her head slightly to the left as she met Macen's gaze, 'May I ask you a question?"

He nodded and she fielded her question, "Why was this task given to you?"

"You know why." He answered gruffly.

Her smile was sad, "Yes, I do. You are quite formidable. Starfleet must trust you implicitly."

Lisea snorted. Macen shook his head ruefully, "Quite the opposite actually."

_That_ answer confused P'ris, so Macen explained, "Before I was assigned to command this ship, I left Starfleet and fought for the Maquis. I survived their defeat at the hands of the Dominion and was recruited to help Starfleet's war effort. Some would feel that I am more loyal to a non-existent force than to Starfleet."

"Are you?' P'ris asked softly, understanding his ease with violent warfare in a new light.

Macen shrugged, "I don't honestly know. When I was assigned to infiltrate the Maquis, I felt more loyalty towards their cause then I have felt towards anything since the destruction of my homeworld."

Vetrik looked stunned, "You were a Maquis?"

Danan smiled, "We were both Maquis."

Vetrik looked towards her, "I am surprised by the pride you obviously feel about that."

"Why?" Danan asked warily.

"The Maquis were nothing but cowards and terrorists." Vetrik spat.

Danan's voice lowered, "Don't you ever…"

"Enough!" Macen slammed his fist into the table, "We have different perspectives on this matter. The Maquis can be viewed as the heroes we knew them for, or the terrorists they were to others. That's superfluous at the moment. We need to move forward."

"I agree." P'ris spoke up, "How do you suggest we do so?"

"Take us to where the Federation gulag is." Macen informed her.

"Nothing else?" she asked with a hint of mischief.

"Any other assistance you're willing to offer won't be refused." He replied with a smirk.

* * *

"I can't believe this." Derrico muttered miserably.

"Believe what?" Kort slurred.

"That we're teaming up with _Romulans_." Derrico whispered conspiratorially.

"I agree." Kort hissed back, then bellowed for the benefit of the entire lounge, "We have allied ourselves with treacherous thieves!"

Several crewmen shuffled out of the lounge. Others resumed their conversations, ignoring the inebriated Klingon. Kort shouted several insults in his native tongue at them and fate in general. He snorted derisively and returned to his drink.

They sat in miserable silence for several minutes before Derrico spoke again, "I thought you were going to teach me the other virtues of the warrior."

Kort nearly choked on his shot of bloodwine, "On this ship? Pah!" He swung his arms out expansively, "Do you see any females worthy of notice?"

"Actually…"

"None." Kort snarled, cutting Derrico off, "The only one of worth is Commander Danan. She is the Captain's mate. I would not dishonour myself by interfering in that coupling. The Vulcan is a fighter, but too unstable. The helmsman, now there mystery."

"You think she's attractive?" Derrico asked in disbelief.

"No." Kort dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, "She is too skinny. She also lurks about the corridors when she is not on duty. It is very odd."

Derrico sobered immediately, "She lurks about _what_ corridors?"

"Places like Auxiliary Control." Kort replied in disgust, "At least T'Kir goes to Botany and takes her pleasure form that Lieutenant. Not D'art, noooo, she skulks about like some thief."

"Are you sure?" Derrico asked again.

"I saw her!" Kort roared, "With my own eyes. I left Sickbay because I could not stand to hear some pathetic crewman whine about a meaningless scratch or an ache. Such mewling babes." He spat in disgust, "I cannot believe that Starfleet cowed my people. I truly am amazed that Starfleet defeated the Dominion. These cretins cannot even work an entire shift with a muscle pull. They fear a scar as though it is life threatening." He cast a scornful eye about the lounge, which was far less populated then when he began his diatribe, "A scar is a badge of honour! Wear them with pride!"

With that said, Kort's head hit the table and remained there. Derrico made sure he was still breathing, then excused himself from the table and left the lounge. He proceeded straight to his quarters. From there, he pulled up several Starfleet Security files. Two hours later he found what he was looking for: absolutely nothing.

* * *

"They're being insufferable." Danan complained.

Macen sighed and poured her another glass of wine. He handed it to her and returned to his seat. Lisea took a sip of the wine and then looked between the candles at him. She found his dour expression annoying.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"Nothing." He muttered.

"Liar." She retorted, "What is it?"

Another sigh, "I think we could have reached an agreement with the Rihansu if you hadn't antagonised Vetrik."

"What?" she replied derisively, "A lecture on diplomacy from you? Who's the one that made an enemy of virtually every Starfleet admiral proclaiming the sainthood of the Maquis?"

Brin gave her a chagrined smile, "Alright, so maybe I'm not one to talk."

"Damn straight." She agreed enthusiastically.

"_But_ we'd know exactly we stand now rather than having to wait until morning."

On the other hand, if we knew _now_, we'd probably be underway." She replied in a sultry voice, "Which means we wouldn't be having this dinner." She stared long and hard into his eyes, "And we definitely wouldn't have a chance at desert."

"Maybe there's something to be said about a lack of social graces." Brin mused.

Lisea rose from her chair and seated herself in his lap, "Shut up and kiss me you idiot." _That_ was one request Macen was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

P'ris let out a moan as she lowered herself onto her couch. Vetrik watched this with some amusement. The Commander had been making quite a show out of shrugging off her wound. Her display of mortality in front of him indicated her trust in him.

He glanced around the damaged remains of her quarters. He remembered his initial surprise at the utilitarian sparseness of the décor. P'ris had no images displayed, no luxuries to relax upon, no reminders of home at all. He wondered if this trait was what made her the ideal administrator for the Rihansu colonies.

_No,_ he answered himself cynically, _what makes her ideal is the simple fact she has no ambitions of her own._

He smiled pleasantly, "Can I get you anything?"

She frowned at him, "Just an answer as to why D'ionn betrayed me."

He bowed, "As you order." He turned on his heel and departed. P'ris opened her mouth to call out for him and inform him that she had only jested. She stopped herself. If he really could answer such questions, then she would have a confirmation or denial of her own suspicions. Such data would prove invaluable as she pondered her response to Macen's request.

* * *

Brin and Lisea lay together in his bed. She faced outward away from the bulkhead. He lay behind her with his arms wrapped around her. Lisea stared out into space for a long while before speaking.

"Brin…does it ever bother you?"

She could feel his muscles tense up. His voice was wary when he replied, "Bother me in what way?"

She rolled over, putting her arm under her head. His face was barely visible in the grey light. What she could see led her to believe that he was remorseful. Her eyes locked on his as she spoke.

"Did you ever wonder…" her voice sounded strangled as she sought the proper words, "Do you ever wonder of we could achieve our goals with less…"

"Violence?" he asked cynically, "Or, less killing?" His voice was bitter, "I used to. Now I just accept it as the price for securing the comfort of those that condemn the payment."

She crooked her arm up and laid her head upon her hand, "What do you mean?"

He released a long, weary sigh, "The Federation has become softer than when I joined, less willing to pay the price for the freedoms of its citizenry."

"I tend to agree." She admitted, "But how do you see what we have done as the price?"

He propped himself up with his arm, "When the Federation and the Cardassian Union formed the Demilitarised Zone, it was a moment of expediency. Forget the lives that would be affected. Buy off the aggressor and move on and enjoy our toil free lives."

He snorted bitterly, "What neither side realised was that there were people willing to commit their very lives to the task of rectifying that wrong." His voice lowered, "Right now, that's our role inside of Starfleet."

"Isn't that the job of the Inspector General's Office and the Judge Advocate General?" she retorted.

"Partially." He replied grimly, "We were given this assignment because Command knew that we'd take whatever steps were necessary to complete the mission."

"But killing nearly the entire bridge complement aboard P'ris' Warbird?" she protested.

"How were we going to distinguish potential allies from foes?" Macen asked pensively.

Lisea's mouth quirked, "I don't know. I haven't come up with a better plan yet."

Macen shook his head sadly, "Neither have I. We have to accept what happened."

Her eyes flashed angrily, "Is that all? There's nothing better we can do next time?"

She could see his resilience and determination in his eyes as he slowly shook his head, "If you were in the same situation right now, this moment, what actions would you change?"

She held his gaze for a moment longer, then she faltered. "I don't know." She whispered.

"The past is done." He said clinically, "We can strive not to repeat mistakes, but we cannot alter what is already done. We can only accept the consequences of our actions. No more, no less."

She flopped back down onto the bed with a snort, "Well, _that's_ certainly a comfort."

He smiled indulgently, "You weren't seeking comfort. You were seeking absolution." His expression turned serious, "You have to find that within yourself. You've found it before. You'll find it again."

She turned and smiled at him. Her smile was warm and inviting, "You realise that this is why I love you?"

"Because I can discuss killing people without getting upset?" he asked sarcastically.

She knocked his arm out from underneath him, "No, silly. It's because you'll take the time to at least discuss these things with me. _And _help me sort out six previous lifetimes' worth of experience."

She could see his eyes soften, "That's why I'm here."

"And I, for one, and very happy that you…" she was interrupted by the beeping of her comm badge, "Damn! Who could that be?"

Macen wore a wry smile as she twisted in the bed to reach for her uniform jacket. She slapped the badge as though she were swatting an annoying insect. Macen found the metaphor applicable. He also pitied whoever was at the other end of the line.

"Danan." She snarled, "What is this about?"

"Tavers, sir." A female voice answered, "I am the Security Officer of the Watch. We are receiving complaints regarding a disturbance on Deck Five. I thought you would like to be informed."

"What kind of disturbance?" Lisea asked impatiently.

"At first we thought it may be an attempted murder." Taver's voice reported, Macen fought to suppress a snicker, "But we soon realised that the disturbance was of a…different nature."

"I'm assuming it's of a sexual nature." Lisea replied wryly.

"Yessir." Tavers agreed in the relief of not having to offer any more descriptions, "The occupants of the room are refusing to acknowledge comm alerts…and frankly, no one wants to go in there. It sounds like a war zone."

"Very well. I'll deal with the problem." Lisea replied. _And quickly too, Brin sounds like he's going to bloody well choke himself trying to suppress that laugh_. "Who are the offending parties?"

"Lieutenants T'Kir and Berent." That certainly evoked a reaction from Macen, who was now red and convulsing from the effort of restraining himself.

"Danan, out." She said to the bridge officer, "Danan to T'Kir."

There was no reply, "Reply, T'Kir." Still no answer, "Answer the bloody comm or I'll have you out the nearest airlock!"

"T'Kir…here." The Vulcan's voice was strained and breathy. Her breathing was heaving, punctuated by groans in the background. Macen was nearly hysterical now. Lisea's face twisted in annoyance at the fact that T'Kir hadn't even bothered to cease her offending activity in order to receive the reprimand.

"There have been complaints of noise in your section."

"I…haven't…heard…a…thing." T'Kir replied in heaving gasps.

Macen's head was under a pillow as Lisea persisted, "_Lieutenant_ T'Kir, I do not give a personal damn what you do with your free time. Just don't do it so loudly that you keep everyone on Deck Five awake!"

A shuddering gasp came over the comm. After a moment's silence, T'Kir's voice came across. She was now coolly dispassionate and devoid of emotion. In other words, she sounded like a typical Vulcan.

"I do not believe that shall be of further issue tonight. Any future activities will be conducted more…discreetly."

"Thank you." Lisea replied in exasperation, "Danan, out"

Now that the channel was closed, Macen finally indulged in a howling fit of laughter. Lisea stared at him in stony silence for a moment. Seconds later, a ghost of a smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth. Seconds after that she was laughing as well.

"The nerve of that woman." She gasped.

"She's a corker." Macen gasped in reply, trying not to hyperventilate.

They took a moment to gather their breath. Once that was accomplished, they rolled onto their sides facing one another. A mischievous smile played at Macen's lips. Lisea's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What?"

"We could give them a run for their money." He suggested.

"Captain!" she said in alarm, "I'm appalled. We're the two senior officers aboard. We should be setting an example."

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, of course. How silly of me."

She pounced on top of him, rolling him onto his back. "How silly indeed." She purred.

* * *

The next morning, Derrico intercepted Macen and Danan on their way to Transporter Room Two, "Sirs, may I have a moment?"

Macen nodded assent, "Captain, I made a search of Ensign D'art's file last night."

Macen's eyebrow rose, "And why this sudden interest?"

Derrico looked uneasy, "Kort informed me that he had seen D'art loitering around Auxiliary Control at odd hours. I wanted to check her records and see if there were any discrepancies."

"Were there?" Macen asked, a concerned edge to his voice.

"No." Derrico answered to his obvious relief.

"Then why are we having this conversation?" Macen asked in a bantering tone.

Derrico saw through the feigned amusement, "I apologise, Captain."

Macen shook his head, "You don't have to apologise, Lieutenant. Just be sure you have a little more to go on before bringing it to me next time."

Derrico knew that Macen's friendly tone was genuine this time. He turned to depart when Macen called back to him.

"Derrico, I understand that you have become friends with Doctor Kort."

"Yes, I suppose you could say that." Derrico admitted uneasily.

"Can you pass a message on to him for me?"

"Certainly."

"Tell him that if he's ever so drunk that he cannot respond to an injury I will have him thrown in the brig." Macen's voice lost all traces of humour.

Derrico swallowed, "Yes, sir."

"Carry on, Lieutenant."

"Uh…yes, sir."

* * *

"Doctor," the nurse poked his head into Kort's office, "There's someone here to see you."

"Silence you smooth browed stain upon your mame's virtue." Kort yelled, then clutched his head, "Have Dr. Melbus see to the patient." he groaned miserably.

The nurse smiled, "He's here to _see_ you, not receive treatment."

"Then send the excrement sample in." Kort rumbled in resignation.

His face brightened when he saw it was Derrico, "Greetings my…ahhhh!" he clutched his head, wincing.

"Hung over?" Derrico chuckled.

"You find this amusing flat-skull?" Kort groused.

"Yes, I do." Derrico answered with relish.

"So would I in your place." Kort admitted with a grin, "Please sit." He motioned towards a chair opposite his desk.

Derrico waved his hand, "No, I'm on my way to the bridge. I just dropped by to deliver a message from the Captain."

"Which is?"

"If you ever get too drunk to attend an emergency, he'll lock you in the brig." Derrico amended the message.

Kort growled, but nodded, "Very well. Inform the Captain I will abide by his decision."

"Tell him yourself." Derrico chuckled as he left the office.

Kort smiled in appreciation. Derrico was transforming himself into a fine man. The Klingon no longer cowed him. Kort admitted that the human was even displaying…what was it called…piss and vinegar?

"Doctor," the nurse poked his head in again, "I really think you should examine the next patient."

"Silence!" Kort bellowed.

* * *

The lift Derrico was in arrived at the bridge when his comm badge chirped. He tagged it with his hand, "Derrico here."

"Mr. Derrico," Macen's voice came over, "might I suggest a follow-up to your earlier efforts?"

"Certainly." He replied, wondering where this was going.

"I would suggest contacting Tarrik and assessing which portions of the ship are the most vulnerable. After that, you may want to assign a rotating patrol through those areas."

Derrico smiled, "Yes, sir. I'll get on it right away."

Lisea gave Brin a smile of approval, "Did you hear the enthusiasm in his voice?"

Macen shrugged, "I think he's just looking for a little recognition."

"Aren't we all?" she asked with an impish smile.

"I think not." He answered cockily.

"You don't think." She retorted snidely.

He rolled his eyes, turning to the transporter tech on duty, "Are you ready?"

"Awaiting final co-ordinates." The male Bolian replied.

"Commander Danan." Kort's voice came over the ship's intercom.

"Danan here." She replied smoothly even though her expression was puzzled.

"Can you please come to Sickbay?"

"I'm in the middle of something, can it wait?"

"Curse you woman." Kort snarled, "I am following procedure here. I wish to discuss the safety of a crewman, and you want to dither in a transporter room?"

Her eyes met Macen's. They were aflame. "Very well, _Doctor_. I will be there shortly." Her voice was acidic.

"Get to the Briefing Room as soon as you can." Macen requested as she started to stalk off, "And one more thing?"

She turned to glower at him, he ignored it, "Try to leave him alive. We might actually need his skills someday."

She fought to suppress a smile, "Very well, but only because you're ordering me to."

"Order is probably an overstatement." Macen muttered to her departing back. He turned to the tech, "Do we have those co-ordinates yet?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then what are you waiting for? Beam her over, man."

* * *

Danan strode into Sickbay, "Very well, Doctor, why am I here?"

"Do not be impertinent with me, woman." Kort rumbled drawing himself to his full height.

Danan moved closer. Her hand snapped out so fast he couldn't see the movement. She now had a knife to his throat. Her eyes narrowed as she whispered just load enough for him to hear.

"I am the First Officer aboard this vessel. I suggest you remember that fact in all further communications with me."

Kort smiled expansively, then laughed, "I am heartened to see you as learned in Klingon greetings as our esteemed Captain."

Danan stepped back, smiling narrowly, "I've had a long time to acquaint ourselves with your culture."

He studied her movements as she returned her blade to its wrist sheath. Her every movement was a study in graceful destruction. She, like the Captain, was battle tested. If asked, Kort would guess that the commanding officers were veterans of dozens of hard fought battles. _They would have made excellent Klingons,_ he mused.

"Why'd you call me up here then?" she asked slightly impatiently.

"It involves Lieutenant Berent." Kort informed her direly.

Danan caught herself starting to snigger. Kort obviously found this distasteful.

"Have I said something humorous?"

"Not at all." She assured him, "His name just came up last night."

"Yes." Kort rumbled, "His name and that of Lieutenant T'Kir has been the focus of conversation of those inhabiting Deck Five."

"I see you're familiar with the problem already." Danan said with amusement.

Kort nodded gravely, "I am, but I am not sure anyone else is."

"What do you mean?" she asked, suddenly serious.

"Observe." He said as he activated the monitor on his wall. The scene was that of three biobeds. Berent was seated on one of them, staring blankly ahead. His face and arms were covered with multiple bruises and scratches.

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"T'Kir happened to him." Kort replied in disgust.

Danan turned towards him, hands folded across her chest, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Kort sighed as he sank into his chair, "Vulcans are touch telepaths."

She nodded, "Everyone knows that."

Kort glared at her, annoyed at being interrupted, "They form especially lasting bonds during periods of…intense physical contact."

"Namely sex." Lisea replied dryly.

Kort coughed uncomfortably, "Precisely. Apparently T'Kir is an exceptionally powerful telepath, but she is poorly trained. She has only the barest control over her own abilities. Her encounter, or encounters, with Mr. Berent have left him a state similar to catatonia."

"Can he be helped?"

Kort nodded, "Yes. We have medications that will diminish the effects of the bond." He paused before adding, "The best treatment, however, is his being quarantined from T'Kir. Her very presence can affect him now, and for the presumable future."

Danan's mouth tightened, "I'll deal with that. You just start him on the drugs."

* * *

Danan stepped out of the lift onto the Bridge, "Lieutenant T'Kir, in the Ready Room please."

T'Kir looked baffled. Several officers stared at her as she followed Danan into the room. The door shut behind them and Lisea took a seat on the desk. She left T'Kir standing.

"You are hereby ordered to refrain from any further contact with Lieutenant Berent."

"Why?" T'Kir snarled.

Danan folded her arms across her chest, "Because you're killing the boy."

"Hardly." T'Kir snorted, "I'm helping him fulfil his fantasies."

"He's fulfilling yours." Lisea replied coldly, "Right now, I don't think he's capable of having any."

"What are you talking about?" T'Kir asked with her arms spread wide, "When I left him this morning, he was fine."

"He was fine before you left." Danan explained, "It was after you left that he slumped over and became vegetative. You've formed a mental bond with him, and his mind isn't strong enough to accept it. When you're gone, he ceases to function."

"How was I supposed to know?" T'Kir protested.

"You should know!" Danan snapped, "I'm holding you responsible for this. You've endangered this boy's mind and possibly his life. If I find out that you've done this to anyone else, I'll drop you off on the nearest uninhabited planet so fast it'll make your molecules separate."

"And how am I supposed to enjoy recreation if all the males on this ship are the same way?" T'Kir complained.

Danan rose of the desk and stood centimetres from T'Kir's face, "You don't. You don't touch another crewman unless you're absolutely sure of the effect it will have upon them."

"How am I supposed to find another man under those conditions?" T'Kir whined.

"That's not my problem." Danan informed her frigidly, "Be sure that it never becomes my problem. Understood?"

T'Kir stood silently. Lisea was about to speak when the comm chirped, "Commander Danan?" It was Macen's voice.

"Danan here, Captain."

"We need you in the Briefing Room. Please come immediately."

"Understood, I'm on my way." She turned to see T'Kir starting to depart. "One moment, _Lieutenant_, I asked you a question."

T'Kir muttered her reply under her breath. Danan stepped in close again, "I can't hear you. What is your answer?"

"I understand." T'Kir replied sullenly.

"Again." Danan snapped, "Convince me that you understand."

"I will avoid sexual relations with anyone that I suspect it will affect mentally." T'Kir nearly shouted.

The Trill gave her a thin smile, "Very good. I think you have received the message. Dismissed." Lisea then went straightaway across the bridge to the Briefing Room access. She had heard the quiet dread in Brin's voice. She didn't want to know what had frightened him, but knew she had little choice in the matter.

* * *

P'ris materialised from the transporter beam and blinked. Macen stood before her, as well as a Starfleet technician manning the transporter controls. Her contacts had given her some data on this vessel, and she was curious as to how much of it she'd be allowed to see.

"If you follow me, Commander," Macen said with a smile, "I'll escort you to our Briefing Room."

P'ris suppressed the frown she felt coming on, _not much apparently_, "Thank you Captain."

P'ris sat close to the display system. The conference table was an oblong affair. The technical specialists being placed closer to the displays in order to present and explain their material. Although, as a consolation they received an excellent view of space denied to the Captain since the viewport was behind him/her.

Macen wore a charming smile, "Can I offer you any refreshments?"

_He can be a dangerous one when he wants to be,_ P'ris mused. Aloud she replied, "No thank you. I would like to begin a review of the material I have brought as soon as possible."

"Certainly." Macen maintained his ingratiating smile, "Commander Danan will be joining us shortly. Will you require any assistance?"

She shook her head, "No. Your systems are quite similar to our own." She turned and activated the display panel. A star chart was immediately displayed.

"This is an outline of all Rihansu territorial claims." She explained, "For security reasons, the planetary data has been removed, but the borders are clearly illustrated."

Macen gave the border a cursory glance before commenting, "This is a fairly small region of space."

P'ris gave him an illusive smile, "The Rihansu do not require much, Captain. We simply wish to live out our lives as we see fit."

Macen looked faintly amused as he replied, "I don't see where that will pose a problem."

P'ris' eyes narrowed, "It does for some."

Macen shrugged, "It doesn't for me."

"We shall see, Captain." P'ris replied archly. She changed the display. It now showed a star system. A single planet within the system was highlighted. "This is Gulag." She explained without a trace of inflection on her voice, "It houses the prison facility you are seeking."

"And how did you come by this location?" he asked innocently.

She gave him a reproving glance as she answered, "I believe you know quite well I came by my knowledge. In exchange for certain…favours, we transported prisoners and guards from the Neutral Zone across the Empire to Gulag."

"What kind of favours?" Macen asked.

"Guarantees of political, and potentially military, support if the Empire ever attacked us." P'ris replied hotly, "As well as material support for our colonies."

"Who are these people?" Macen asked.

P'ris activated the next display, "This is an orbital scan of the prison."

"Ye gods." Macen muttered, "It's a fortress."

"Yes." P'ris' tone indicated her admiration of the facility's designers. She pointed towards several highlighted sections, "These are anti-ship phaser emplacements. The shield generators are staged so as to provide layered, ablative shielding. The weapons emplacements surround prisoner barracks so as to prevent surgical strikes. No strike upon the defensive systems will avoid collateral damage."

Macen was as surprised by the similarity of Romulan and Federation military terminology as he was at the strange familiarity of the prison's layout. He knew that some verbal similarities were a result of the universal translator. He also acknowledged that certain euphemisms of warfare _were_ universal, no matter the original language. The prison, on the other hand, shouldn't feel so…comfortable?

P'ris shifted to the next display. Macen's blood froze and his heart stopped. It showed a man in a grey and black uniform. He wore boots and pants similar in design to the earliest Starfleet fashions. The tunic was a grey fold-over design with black highlights. The rank insignia was a rectangular pin worn on the right side of the grey under-tunic's collar. The under-tunic was identical to that worn by Starfleet as part of their recent jumpsuit styled uniform. It was the uniform Macen had appreciated the most.

His eyes narrowed as he continued his examination of the display. The figure wore a tactical thigh holster, strapped down twice. The holster held a rectangular pistol. He cradled a rifle in his hands. The grip was forward, near the barrel. A scope was mounted along the body of the weapon.

"Can you enhance the image?" Macen asked hoarsely, "Concentrate on the rank insignia on the neck."

P'ris complied, enlarging the image of the man's neck. Macen recognised the insignia. The man was a Colonel. It was a title analogous with his Starfleet rank of captain. It was a Starfleet Marine's uniform, insignia, weaponry, and apparently prison as well. The Marines had been disbanded nearly a century before.

"Where did you get this image?" he asked, his throat constricted by dread.

"It was one of the guards we transported." P'ris answered, observing his discomfort with fascination, "It was a uniform I was unfamiliar with. Do you know its origin?"

"Yes." He admitted grimly, "All too well." He tapped his comm badge, "Commander Danan?"

"Danan here, Captain." Lisea's voice replied.

"We need you in the Briefing Room. Please come here immediately."

"Understood. I'm on my way." The connection fell silent. He could hear the frustration in Lisea's voice and knew the situation in Sickbay must have gotten fairly unruly. He'd explore the issue later. Right now he desperately needed Lisea's insight regarding this revelation.

Danan breezed into the Briefing Room, "I've got the situation is Sickbay settled down. Now can someone tell me…"

Her voice faded out as she recognised the image on the display. She stood in the doorway looking stricken. Her pale features were drained of all colour. She looked faint and quickly took the nearest seat before her knees buckled.

"How…?" she choked out, "Where is this from?"

"The Gulag." Macen answered, his voice deadened from shock.

"How is that possible?" she asked, trying to deny the evidence before her.

"I don't know." Macen admitted dismally, "All Marine equipment and uniforms were retired a century ago."

"Except for the archival pieces Starfleet kept for itself." Danan amended.

"Who are these 'Marines'?" P'ris asked, reminding the others of her presence.

"A military force that used to be part of Starfleet." Macen answered, reminding her of what he'd told her before, "The Marines were ground troops. Utilised for taking and holding territory."

. "We'll never be able to penetrate their security." Lisea murmured despondently

"Why not?" P'ris asked.

"That installation is specifically designed repel orbital assaults." Lisea replied in a surly tone,

"Trust me. It can't be done with this ship."

"What if you don't use this ship?" P'ris asked.

A flicker went through Macen's eyes as he asked, "What do you mean?"

"I have a plan." P'ris informed them, then proceeded to explain what that plan was.

* * *

"I don't like it." Danan said in a huff, hands on her hips.

"We don't have to like it." Macen countered, "We just have to make it work."

Her glare followed him across his Spartan quarters. He hadn't had time to bring any personal effects, only what was in his duffel.

"No." she replied acidly, "_We_ don't."

He turned. His gaze was fierce. Danan could not recall ever seeing this look ever being directed at her before. It made her uncomfortable.

"Are we going to have a problem now?" he asked tartly.

"Only of you continue with this plan." She replied hotly.

"Lisea," Macen said in an overly restrained voice, "you are the love of my life. You are also the First Officer of this ship. Don't _ever _confuse the two."

She felt a fiery blush rushing to her cheeks, "Don't worry. I'll remove at least one of those obstacles before that happens."

She could see him mentally switching gears into his analytical mode. She knew that's what was required of him in order to carry out his mission. She also found it damnably annoying at this moment. She forced herself to take several deep breaths before speaking again.

"I do not think it is prudent to place a team aboard Commander P'ris' Warbird and have them enter Gulag space while the _Odyssey_ waits outside of sensor range." She said as calmly as she could.

"Can you come up with a better way of circumventing their security precautions than by posing as a relief unit being transported by the Rihansu?" He asked dispassionately.

"No." she admitted angrily.

"Then we proceed with the current plan." He said abruptly, "Now, let's go meet with Derrico and select which crewmen will become Marines for this mission."


	7. Chapter 7

The twelve men and women that stood before Macen were tired, haggard, and bruised. Dirt clung to their black and grey uniforms. The dirt had mixed with their sweat to form muddy smears across their faces. Anger and loathing radiated from their eyes and faces.

"Do you think you're good enough?" Macen yelled as he paced back and forth across the line they stood in, "Do you really think you'll survive _any _kind of combat?"

He stopped in the centre of the formation and yelled at them, "Who are you?"

"Marines!" they yelled back in unison.

"What is your mission?"

"To win!"

"How?"

"By any means necessary!" they yelled back with a vengeance.

"Very well." He replied with approval, "Dismissed."

The twelve beleaguered Security officers filtered out of Holodeck One and headed straight for the mess. Macen remained behind, surveying the recreated training complex portrayed within the holographic environment. He'd watched old Marine training records to prepare for his role and program this simulation

"You're enjoying wearing that uniform, aren't you?" he heard behind him. Macen turned to find Lisea coming out from the control bunker. From the bunker, a person could monitor the entire "Centre", recording and scoring the performance of every "recruit".

He broke into an embarrassed grin, "Yeah, I guess I am."

The Marines held a mystique on Starfleet that persisted to this day. They had been a rugged and formidable force. Designed to land on any planet and form a beachhead until the Fleet could mobilise enough personnel to garrison it. They had been among the vanguard forces defending the newborn Federation's frontier. It was an ideal recruiting ploy for Section 31. It would be especially effective now that the war had concluded.

"It shows." Danan replied mirthlessly. She still did not approve of Macen's plan to train twelve Security officers as Marines. Those trainees would then accompany Macen and Danan aboard Commander P'ris' Warbird and transported to Gulag. Upon arriving, they would pose as a relief unit. Under that guise, they would sabotage the defence grid, allowing the Warbird and the incoming _Odyssey_ to transport troops down to the surface and take the camp.

"Are you saying you're not?" Macen asked sardonically.

Danan's mouth tightened around then corners, then she sighed, "No, I'm not. I had hoped that with the Dominion gone and the Cardassians allied with the Federation, we'd have a chance to rebuild the colonies."

A cloud crossed Macen's face.

"What?" Danan asked.

"The colonies." He said quietly, "The Dominion razed the DMZ. They imprisoned all of the colonists and used them for forced labour."

Her face lost all colour, even her spots, "When?"

"The first year of the war." Macen said despondently, "That's why they had to remove the Maquis."

"By the Pool." Danan exclaimed in a stunned whisper.

"It's time to find our own way." Macen said grimly, "For ourselves, and the remaining Maquis."

A small spark shone in her eyes, "You have a plan?"

"Maybe." He shrugged, "I have an idea. I don't know if it qualifies as a plan."

"It's probably more than the rest of us have." She said with a thin smile.

"I hope not."

* * *

T'Kir sat at her Ops console staring out into space. She hummed a tune and bobbed her head side to side. D'art glared at her from her console alongside her. She strummed her fingers across her panels before turning to T'Kir.

"Stop it!" she demanded angrily.

"Stop what?" T'Kir protested with as much innocence as she could muster.

"All your…. your…everything you're doing." D'art replied in frustration.

"Such as?" T'Kir asked in a melodic tone reminiscent of the tune she had been humming.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." D'art snarled in a whisper.

"I really have no idea." T'Kir informed her with over-acted confusion. She batted her eyes and placed her hand across her chest, "Why don't you enlighten me?" She unzipped the collar of her departmental tunic, "You could explain it over dinner."

D'art's face went red, "You presumptuous slut!" she hissed, "You think I'd take a piece of work like you to bed? You need your head examined!"

"So they tell me." T'Kir laughed, then wagged a finger at D'art, "But I _know_ you. I know why you're here. Better behave."

D'art became so infuriated that she couldn't speak. She sat poised to lunge at T'Kir. T'Kir sat like a cat taunting its prey. She gave D'art a laconic smile.

Macen, Danan, and Derrico entered the bridge at that moment.

"What's going on here?" Macen asked sternly.

"Nothing, Captain." T'Kir assured him, still projecting innocence.

"Why don't I believe you?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Because she's liar." D'art snapped.

"_Ensign_ D'art!" Danan's voice shot across the bridge like a projectile, "You will refrain from insulting members of this crew. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." D'art replied crisply, her face splotchy from her embarrassed flush.

"Good." Macen said condescendingly, "I would hate to have to schedule you for separate watches just because you can't behave without adult supervision."

D'art and T'Kir returned to their duties with one last loathing glare exchanged.

* * *

Energy bursts cut through black clad figures. Searing yellow streaks cut through armour as though it weren't there. Explosions and screams reverberated from every direction. Derrico led the three other officers of his squad into a bunker.

They stormed in. Derrico fired a burst through the chest of the first opposing sentry. She fell without a sound. Another rose from their post behind a gunnery console. Another one of Derrico's squad, Jansen, released a volley of fire into his chest. He slumped over his board.

Another officer, Hubert, rushed towards another gunnery tech, "Put your hands in the air!" he shouted, thrusting his rifle toward her. She complied. Hubert maintained a watchful eye on her as Jansen and the fourth officer, Radischev, passed behind him.

Another tech leapt to his feet and fired at Radischev. Radischev collapsed as yellow energy pulses lanced into him. Jansen pivoted. She fired two squarely aimed bursts into the tech's head.

Hubert's prisoner snapped him forward. She had a palm sized weapon that discharged a green pulse into Hubert. He hit the ground without a sound. Jansen was hit as she tried to turn. Derrico fired three shots into the tech. She fell.

"Computer, end program." Macen's voice cut through the air with a grim finality.

The bunker evaporated leaving Derrico's squad lying on the cubical surface of the Holodeck. Derrico turned and faced Macen. Behind the Captain stood Lisea and P'ris. Macen awaited Derrico's report with his hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm waiting, Lieutenant." Macen reminded Derrico.

"Sir." Derrico said, drawing himself up, "Squad two has failed."

"Why is that?" Macen asked coolly.

"We were ambushed by the enemy, sir."

"Don't you mean you were ambushed by a _prisoner_?" Macen asked acidly.

"Yessir." Derrico answered shamefaced.

"On your feet." Macen barked at the others.

They doggedly rose to their feet. The neural discharges they'd been hit with still affecting their nervous systems. They'd feel the pain throughout the remainder of the day. As uncomfortable as it was, it was less painful than even a mild phaser burst.

Macen approached Hubert, hovering centimetre's from the Security man's face, "Why didn't you shoot the gunnery tech?"

"It was unnecessary." Hubert replied evenly.

"Unnecessary?" Macen asked scornfully, "She killed you. After that, she killed Jansen. Do you still think her death was unnecessary?"

"Yes, sir. I do." Hubert's answer was less confident than his first reply.

"Why, exactly, do you think that?" Macen asked.

"She offered surrender." Hubert protested, "I couldn't shoot a prisoner."

"Why didn't you shoot her when you first saw her?" Macen asked.

"Sir?" Hubert croaked. Macen stepped back and surveyed the entire squad. His eyes were cold and disapproving. Muscles in his cheek and jaw flexed.

"The enemy you will face will respond _exactly _as depicted here." Macen informed them menacingly, "They will grant no quarter. They will not offer surrender. They will not yield…_ever_!"

His eyes narrowed, "How do you respond to an enemy like that?"

No one spoke. Finally, Jansen stepped forward, "We respond by killing them before they kill us."

Macen nodded, "At least one of you gets it." He waved them away, "Dismissed."

The dejected and battered squad trooped out. Macen turned towards Danan and P'ris. Lisea's face was rigid, revealing nothing. P'ris' smile was one of devious amusement.

"I am certainly glad you are a singularity within the Starfleet officers' corps." P'ris commented dryly, "I do not think the rest of the Alpha Quadrant would withstand an entire force of likeminded individuals such as yourself."

"Who knows?" Macen said wearily.

"The universe can barely handle one of him." Danan said dryly, "Don't compound matters by multiplying him."

* * *

Tarrik stepped into Macen's Ready Room, "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

Macen suppressed a grin. Even speaking, Tarrik's porcine hereditary revealed itself. Tarrik had an excellent grasp of Basic. He also had a guttural pronunciation to go along with it.

Macen stood, "Come here Chief." He took a case out from behind his desk as Tarrik approached. He pressed his thumbs against the locking mechanism's scanners. Recognising his DNA pattern, the case unlatched itself. The opening lid revealed a rifle and pistol.

"I want you to replicate twelve of each of these." Macen informed Tarrik.

The Tellarite ran a tricorder down the length of the rifle, "This is pretty impressive." The engineer's appreciation of the design echoed in his voice, "It has design characteristics similar to both a pulse rifle and a compressed phaser rifle, but with a much larger energy capacity and a smaller casing."

"Can the system handle it?" Macen asked, "Can they be replicated?"

"Easily." Tarrik assured him, "It's a wonder Starfleet didn't start making these ages ago."

"They did. They just didn't distribute them widely." Macen informed him, "And I'd like to keep it that way."

Tarrik looked uncomfortable, "Erasing the replicator logs is easy. I'm uncomfortable with not saving data on this power source. It's a superior design compared to anything we've got now."

"I'm aware of that, Chief." Macen replied gravely. "I'm also aware of the simple fact that these were designed for use by Starfleet commandos, not the fleet at large."

Tarrik nodded, "Alright. I'll erase all the data."

"Thank you, Chief." Macen told him in earnest gratitude.

"My people suffered greatly when the Andorians first learned of other cultures and other technologies." Tarrik told him, "The Federation went a long way towards curbing the mutual animosity between our peoples. Now that the Dominion War is over, it seems that continuing that work is unimportant next to securing old borders and recruiting new allies."

Macen nodded sadly, "So you see the dangers too."

Tarrik's voice was forlorn as he answered, "Yes, sir. I do indeed."

"Then let's do something about it." Macen said with grim resolve.

"Yes, sir!" Tarrik replied in kind.

* * *

"I don't see why you want to do this." Kort grumbled.

"Trust me," Derrico assured him, "it'll be fun."

"But _why_?" the burly Klingon grumbled.

"My team is boarding the Rihansu Warbird tomorrow." Derrico explained, exasperated, "We've been drilling constantly for four days. It's time to relax."

"But you call _this_ relaxation?" Kort moaned.

* * *

"They're not ready." Macen groused, leaning back in his chair.

"They're as ready as they're going to get in the time frame you established." Lisea replied, lying on the couch. Her eyes drifted across the Ready Room. She despised the barrenness found here. She stifled her displeasure with a sigh. Brin hadn't had time to personalise anything yet. She knew that as soon as they returned to Spacedock he was going to request several overhauls. She supposed one advantage to an experimental ship is that you got to modify it as you saw fit.

She sat up, "We need to get out of here."

"We _need_ to run another drill." Macen replied sourly. He moved from behind the desk and began to pace across the room, "Another few simulations, and they may get their reflexes honed a little more."

She followed him with her eyes. Her eyebrows were raised with indulgent patience. "Or, we may just push them into exhaustion and they blow the mission from not being able to even walk."

Macen turned to glower at her. Finally, he broke into a contrite grin, "I have been pushing them hard, haven't I?"

"Harder than anything they experienced in the Academy." Danan replied, "Maybe even in the war."

"I wouldn't go that far." Macen protested.

Danan laughed, "Neither would I, but it was an easy shot."

"Thanks." He replied morosely, "So what's your suggestion?"

Her bright smile lit up her face, "Derrico and the team are throwing a party in Holodeck two. We could go to that."

"I'm sure the last person they want to see is me." Brin said hesitantly.

"Nonsense." Lisea replied, dismissing the notion, "Our attendance would be a great morale booster."

Macen still thought the idea a dubious one, but agreed.

* * *

"What is this…place?" Kort asked irritably.

Derrico motioned towards the long counter stretching before them. It had several stools set up on one side of the counter, occupied by customers. On the other side of the counter were clerks dressed in white smocks and paper hats serving them. At the far corner was an area with loud music and people dancing.

"It's a malt shop." Derrico answered gleefully, "It was a place in mid-twentieth century Earth to go eat, drink, and socialise."

"Eating is good." Kort commented, "As is drinking. What do they serve?"

"Mostly sodas and milk shakes." Derrico answered, then slyly added, "But the root beer at this place is to die for."

"I could use an ale right now." Kort muttered and approached the counter.

Derrico shook his head sympathetically, wondering what the Klingon would think of root beer. It had been hard enough to get him into biker's leathers much less participate. The team had invited most of the ship's crew and the curious were dropping in and out. His people were really getting into the swing of things. On the dance floor, Harriet "Harry" Jansen was dancing Leroy Adams' legs off. He almost pitied the engineer.

The door to the holodeck opened and two more participants entered. Derrico's heart almost stopped when he recognised the Captain and the XO. Commander Danan had promised she'd get Macen to attend, but Derrico hadn't believed her. He was out several favour points with other crewmen, but it was worth it to have the Captain present.

Derrico made his way through the milling crowd. Their uniforms easily distinguished the casual visitors. The true participants wore period piece clothing. To Derrico's even greater amazement, both officers wore the appropriate apparel.

"Sirs," he stammered, "I can't believe you're here."

Macen looked at him suspiciously, "Does this mean we're not invited?"

"No sir!" Derrico nearly shouted, "Commander Danan said she'd get you here, but I never believed it."

Brin gave Lisea an accusing stare as she turned away, trying to project innocence, "Seeing as how I'm here, I'd say the Commander's plan worked."

"Yessir." Derrico agreed enthusiastically, then turned to Danan, "Thank you, sir!"

A sudden shout of displeasure broke through every conversation. Kort stood sputtering at a hapless clerk while another patron tried to dry Kort's spewed drink off. The lady's companion was rising and coming towards Kort.

"You call this swill beer?" he bellowed at the terrified clerk. A finger tapped at his shoulder and Kort whirled around to find another biker his size staring menacingly into his eyes.

"You just spit all over my girlfriend." The biker informed him.

"I apologise." Kort said and started to turn towards the clerk. He found his arm held by the biker.

"That ain't good enough." The biker declared hotly, "You say 'sorry' to me an' ignore her? Where'd you learn manners, boy?"

"On Qo'noS." the Klingon snarled.

'I don't know where that is." The biker snarled back, "But I hope they taught you how to fight."

The holographic biker never landed the punch. Kort's palm smashed into his nose. The biker flew into a table. The patrons merely pushed his unconscious body to the floor and resumed their conversation.

Kort turned to the "assaulted" lady, "I apologise for my earlier actions."

She smiled at him, "You took out Bobby Joe. Nobody's done that before."

"It was a simple matter." Kort assured her, "He had no skills whatsoever."

Her expression turned very inviting, "You want to go somewhere private?"

Kort was surprised at first, then smiled heartily at her, "Certainly!"

Kort and the woman left to cheers bellowed by the Security team.

"I programmed that sequence entirely for Kort's benefit." Derrico explained proudly.

"I…see." Macen replied diplomatically, "Are there any more…surprises?"

"Join the party and find out." Derrico beamed.

Derrico urged Macen and Danan forward. They proceeded to the dance floor and soon fell into conversations with various crewmen. There were no more boisterous "surprises", just music and games. It was several hours before the program was finally deactivated. When it was, the participants went to their quarters exhausted but much more relaxed.

* * *

"Stand-by for transport." Petty Officer Rool informed his Rihansu counterpart. The Bolian was the Chief Transporter Tech. The transport would occur in two stages. Macen and Danan would transport first. After their materialisation, Derrico and the other eleven members of the insertion team would beam over simultaneously from Transporter Rooms One and Two.

Macen was giving last minute instructions to Kort and T'Kir, "T'Kir, you'll be in command while we're away. You have all the details of the plan." T'Kir waved the padd containing the instructions, verifying that she had it. "Kort will be…"

"My overseer." She quipped, rolling her eyes.

Macen gave her a reproving look, "You've done a lot to earn my trust. That's why I'm leaving you in command." His voice became stern, "You've also done a lot to make me doubt you. Kort will be your advisor. Listen to him."

"He's also here to take over if I screw up." She said petulantly.

"He can do the same to me." Macen reminded her, "Deal with it." She gave him a smirk and shrugged.

"I will do all I can to assist her." Kort assured him.

"Brin, we need to get going." Lisea called from the transporter pad.

"Good luck." Macen told them.

"May your foes feel your wrath." Kort intoned sombrely.

T'Kir kissed him on the cheek, "Don't get dead." She whispered in his ear.

Macen flushed as he took her by the shoulders, "Don't ever do that again." he warned her. He turned and stepped onto the transporter pad. Danan eyes flashed phaser fire at T'Kir. T'Kir held up her hands in mock surrender. She grinned triumphantly as the two disappeared in a shimmering fire.

* * *

"You enjoyed that." Danan accused as she and Macen re-materialised.

"I did not!" Brin protested, "It surprised me as much as it did you."

"We're not talking surprise." Lisea growled, "We're talking enjoyment."

Macen sighed, "I had no idea she was going to do it. I warned her about any future 'incidents'."

"That little hussy's been after you since day one." Danan warned him, "Even when she _was_ sane."

"Excuse me, but I require the transporter pads to be cleared for the next group." A Rihansu tech informed them. They looked about the transporter room with some chagrin. P'ris and a group of her senior officers had been present for their exchange.

"Problem?" P'ris asked in obvious amusement.

"Not really." Macen replied stonily as he and Danan stepped of the transporter pads.

Six of his crew materialised in a crimson blaze behind them as they spoke with P'ris. "Do we have everything prepared?" Danan asked.

P'ris nodded, "As prepared as we can be. I have pulled the last three security codes out of the datacore. They are available for your scrutiny at any time."

"Good." Macen replied cheerlessly.

"Is there any other way I can assist you?" P'ris asked, noting Macen's grim preoccupation.

"Do you have a training area?" he asked, "Somewhere where we can exercise our team?"

P'ris smiled, "Yes. We have an area specifically designed for that purpose."

"Can you have the message sent to my people to join us there after they have stowed their gear?"

"Certainly." She replied again, then her smile became somewhat predatory, "I would venture that several of my crew would be…delighted to engage in sparring with your people."

Macen's feral smile matched hers in intensity, "We'd be delighted to have them join us."

Danan shook her head as the Commander led them to their temporary quarters.

* * *

"This is stupid." Danan said sourly. The exercise area within the Warbird was immense. The size of the assembled crowd made it appear quite small. She guessed that at least half of the Rihansu crew had shown up for this spectacle.

"C'mon." Macen replied flippantly, "It'll build morale and camaraderie."

"If you believe that, then you're a bigger fool than I thought." Danan replied sharply, "They're here to see the 'vaunted' Federation representatives get pounded into the mat."

"Then why are you here?" Macen probed.

Danan rolled her eyes, "I'm here to record the full extent of my foolishness." She glared at him, "It's a Trill thing. When one of us is being stupid, we all line up to assist in making sure the symbiot survives for posterity."

"And here I was hoping it was just because you cared about me." Macen replied sarcastically.

"Maybe later I will." Danan replied, "But not right now."

Macen turned to face her, "Why don't we just get it over with now?"

"Get what over with?" she asked angrily.

"Whatever's eating you."

"Nothing is 'eating' me."

"Bull." He scoffed, "Ever since T'Kir kissed my cheek, you've been a royal…"

"Don't say it." Lisea hissed a warning, then glaring at Macen spoke, "Alright. The kiss bothered me." She spread her arms wide, "Honestly, it bothered the hell out of me."

"Why?" he asked, genuinely perplexed and frustrated.

"Because I haven't seen you in three years and you two have always been an item." She informed him, dropping her arms with a slap against her side, 'I have no idea how you feel."

Brin's expression was one of incredulity, "You don't know how I feel?" Exasperation crept into his voice, "Then why have I bothered telling you how I feel for the last few weeks?"

"Brin," Lisea reached out for him, "please…"

He brushed her hand aside, "Please what? Don't you trust me any more? Is that it?"

"Of course I trust you." She assured him, "I don't trust _her_."

"If you trust me," he sighed, "then trust me to deal with T'Kir. You used to. At least for a while."

That said, Macen turned and walked towards the exercise mats. Lisea stayed alone against the wall. Brin's words had struck a resonant chord within her. Her anger stemmed from a lack of trust. He had not done anything to deserve her distrust. She merely assigned it to him.

She mentally chastised herself as she stepped in closer towards the mats. She knew whatever happened her would get interesting. Romulans, Rihansu…whatever you wanted to call a Vulcanoid, were much stronger than humans. El-Aurians were nowhere near that same strength class. A Rihansu child could crush a human adult's bones with little effort expended. Every Rihansu gathered around the mat with a hungering eye was an adult.

Derrico and his troops were in prime physical condition, at least by Federation standards. Danan had been amused by the change in Macen's physique in the last three years. He had begun the infamous "Starfleet expansion". It was a qualified myth that the higher one reached on the chain of command in Starfleet, the wider the waistband wearing the uniform was. Macen had fought the good fight for eighty years, but his last three years on Angosia had had their affect.

Lisea knew he was far from portly. She found him more attractive than ever. He'd filled out to the point where he was no longer wiry. He did, however, now have a paunch in his abdominal region. She knew he'd received comparisons with William Riker over the last ten years or so. In this area, it was certainly applicable.

The Starfleet personnel were already engaged in some simple tumbling exercises. Macen walked onto the mat with them. Within seconds, he was engaged in a hearty wrestling match with an ensign named Smithers. The Rihansu were whispering amongst themselves.

"Starfleet!" a Rihansu called out, "Are you prepared for a real challenge?"

Macen turned in the voice's direction. His smile was predatory, "Any time."

A literal flood of bodies surged towards the mat. Macen held his arms in the air and shouted for order.

"Hold on!" he yelled, "We need to establish a few rules."

"What kind of voice?" a jeering voice asked suspiciously.

"The rules are simple: don't get thrown off the mat." Macen informed them.

"You said 'rules'." Another voice, female this time, "That implies a plural. What are the other rules?"

Macen's smile was mischievous, "No inflicting permanent damage. That means 'no killing'."

"What about breakages?" a bloodthirsty voice called out.

"As long as they aren't permanent." Macen replied evenly.

The Rihansu roared their approval. One Rihansu officer was designated the 'referee'. He held up his arm. The combatants readied themselves. The Rihansu's arm dropped and the melee began.

* * *

_Well,_ Danan thought to herself, _they're not doing that badly_.

Over a dozen Rihansu lay scattered about the mat. Macen's rules had given the Starfleet team the initial advantage. They struck at their opponents ruthlessly. Every attack designed to incapacitate their opponent.

The Rihansu had adapted swiftly and the second wave from the floor had struck with greater ferocity. The Starfleet team lost Smithers during that round. The sandy haired ensign had sailed off the mat and into a bulkhead. He'd remained unconscious ever since.

The third wave had cost the team even more. They were now at half strength. Many of the first Rihansu causalities had returned from their Casualty ward and were clamouring against the referee's decision that any combatant thrown from the mat was disqualified from returning in later rounds. The fourth wave was being dealt with as the argument concluded.

Only three of Starfleet crew remained on the mat. Macen, Derrico, and Jansen rocked on their heels, trying desperately to catch their breath before the next onslaught was unleashed upon them. Lisea gauged the savage hunger radiating from the crowd waiting their turn and did not envy them what was about to occur. The Rihansu knew victory was at hand, and they wanted to make it as painful as possible.

The stoic resilience of the Federation crew sparked sympathy among some of the non-combatants. They urged that the match be halted. The others ignored them, blinded by the "insult" of being humbled by an "inferior" race. Retribution _had_ to exacted.

The referee brought his arm up. The crowd surged forward, ready to rush on to the mat. Lisea sucked in a deep breath and held it. Macen, Derrico, and Jansen assumed "guard" positions and awaited the inevitable.

The doors to the exercise area opened and P'ris marched in. Her manner was imperious and her temper livid. Her eyes swept the crowd scathingly. Disapproval radiated from her every pore.

"What is going on here?" she asked disdainfully.

"A contest, Commander." The referee explained haltingly.

"Really?" she replied scornfully, "I would think that it is an unruly mob about to rush three exhausted warriors. Wouldn't you agree, Centurion?"

The referee nodded embarrassed agreement with the assessment, her voice turned frigid, "Since when do Rihansu fight as mongrel scavengers?"

Silence met her question. "I see." She commented tonelessly, "Perhaps we are no longer worthy of the name our ancestors carved out for themselves." She stood silent for a moment longer, "You are all dismissed. Have your wounds tended to."

She turned to Danan "I assume Captain Macen encouraged this?"

Danan nodded. P'ris snorted.

"Males." She said contemptuously and then left to return to her bridge.

* * *

After cleaning up, and having several strains and bruises treated, Macen joined Danan and P'ris on the Warbird's bridge. A stream of data being displayed on the Commander's personal console engrossed the two women. Macen stepped behind them in order to see what had captivated them. What he saw shocked him.

"Those are Starfleet codes!" Macen blurted.

"Yes, they are." Danan murmured, distracted by what she was reading.

"That means we can forge our orders and clearances to the Gulag." Macen said happily.

Danan smiled, "The first good news we've received."

They had twelve hours until they would reach Gulag's sensor range. Macen ordered his crew to try and get as much rest as they could over the first ten of those hours. Needless to say, sleep was elusive. It was a time of mounting tension for all.

* * *

Macen and Danan spent most of the time with P'ris and her bridge crew. Macen had analysed a pattern to the Starfleet traffic. Danan had forged their clearances utilising their new understanding of the codes. They were a variant of previous codes.

"This is important." Macen said, studying the latest intercepted message. He leaned back and put his feet up on the small table in P'ris' quarters. "They aren't using transwarp communications and their codes are a bastardised variant of Starfleet Command protocols."

"Meaning?" P'ris asked irritably. They'd been racking their brains for hours trying to anticipate every potential reaction they might receive when they reached Gulag.

"I don't think this is truly a Marine operation." Macen declared.

"How can you say that?" Danan asked, raising her head from its suspended position between her knees, "They use the uniforms, the weaponry, and the codes. How can they _not_ be Marines?"

"How can we use Vulcans to portray Romulans?" he asked, placing his hands behind his head, "I think this operation is headed up by Section 31, hence the modus operandi, but I don't think that most of the personnel serving at the Gulag are the real thing."

"Do you have any evidence other than missing pieces of code?" P'ris asked crossly.

Macen grinned, "Yeah, one big clue. There aren't any surviving Marines left in the entire galaxy to man this base, much less its supplying operations across the Federation."

"What is Section 31?" P'ris asked.

Macen broke into a wry grin, "It's a long story. Suffice it to say they have access to the records and equipment to organise this sort of thing. It's also their style of operation."

"Can you be certain of that?" P'ris asked.

Macen shook his head, chuckling, "Nothing in life is certain. The fortunes of war are what they are. With more time and data, we could discover what every member of the Gulag's staff had for breakfast. Unfortunately, we don't have the time to take the cautious approach."

"Do we ever?" Danan teased.

Macen shot her a perturbed glance, "We need to neutralise this installation as swiftly as possible so that we can gather evidence against the originators of this conspiracy."

"Why do you refer to it as a conspiracy?" P'ris asked, perplexed.

Macen's chuckle was full of dark irony, "The Federation's citizenry doesn't realise the extent of the power base gained by their representatives. This entire operation has been cloaked in secrecy to prevent a burgeoning awareness of such facts."

P'ris broke into an amused smile, "You sound rather cynical."

"He is, trust me." Danan assured her, "You should hear his views on the future of humanity."

"I can only imagine." P'ris commented. A chime interrupted their reverie. "We are now within scanning range of the Gulag. We should proceed to the bridge." Macen and Danan followed her to the command deck of the Warbird.

Once they arrived, they were informed that the Gulag's commander had been trying to contact P'ris in order to confirm her orders. P'ris sat down regally in her command chair and received the incoming signal. The image that appeared on her screen was a serious countenanced woman with unruly blonde hair pulled into a braid. She wore a Marine uniform with Lieutenant's insignia.

"Attention Rihansu Warbird _T'Kut_, this is Marine Command, Please respond." The woman's voice came over the speakers. Her voice was soft, with a confident edge to it. Macen suspected her alto could inspire terror when properly manipulated.

"This is Commander P'ris of the _T'Kut_ to Marine Command. How may I be of assistance?" her voice was smooth and polished.

"Greetings Commander." The lieutenant replied, "I am requesting confirmation of your orders. We weren't expecting anyone for another two weeks."

"I am bringing a relief contingent of guards and personnel for your facility." P'ris explained calmly.

"No one here knows anything about a relief contingent." The lieutenant informed her suspiciously.

"Perhaps _you _do not know of it." P'ris replied sharply.

"I am Captain Carrase's aide." The lieutenant replied irritable, "If she knows of it, _I_ know of it."

"Carrase's aide?" P'ris replied dubiously, "I have never heard of you. What is your name?"

"What does that have to do with…" the woman replied in a fluster before being interrupted.

"Your name woman!" P'ris demanded, "I have been involved with the transportation of prisoners and personnel to this facility since its inception. I need to verify your identity."

The Marine sighed, "I am Lieutenant Calyn Qek."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Qek." P'ris replied amiably, "Have you had an opportunity to review our orders?"

"They seem to be in order." Qek informed her, "Transit is approved."

"Very well." P'ris replied, "Please inform Captain Carrase that my crew is at her disposal during our stay here."

"I'm sure she'll be appreciative." Qek replied sardonically, "Command out."

The screen went blank and P'ris turned towards Macen and Danan, who had witnessed the entire exchange while staying out of the viewer's scan, "What do you think now?"

"She's definitely a Marine." Macen pronounced.

"Yup." Danan agreed heartily, "Sounds just like one of the recordings."

"Marine Command to commander _T'Kut_, please acknowledge." A crisp voice came over the Warbird's speakers as she slid into orbit over the prison facility the planet below was named after.

"_T'Kut_ acknowledges, Marine Command." P'ris replied, "Awaiting further instructions."

"You may begin transporting the personnel to the assigned co-ordinates." The voice informed them.

"Very well." P'ris replied crisply, then added, "May I make an additional inquiry?"

There was a noticeable pause before the voice spoke again, "State your request."

"I desire to accompany the personnel to the surface." P'ris informed him.

"Why?"

P'ris raised her eyebrow, "The commander of the forces I am transporting has alerted me to possible obstacles concerning the fate of future 'services' normally provided by my vessels. I wish to discuss these with Captain Carrase."

Another substantial pause, and then, "Agreed. You may accompany the personnel."

"Thank you." P'ris replied politely. She turned to Macen and Danan, "It is now your operation. Let us hope that fortune smiles upon your endeavours."

* * *

Macen, Danan, and P'ris materialised in an open balcony overlooking a courtyard filled with prisoners. Standing between them and the entrance to the prison building were three armed men and Lieutenant Calyn Qek. The men wore the all black battle fatigues of Starfleet origin. Qek wore the typical grey/black duty uniform.

Macen took the opportunity to study Qek more thoroughly. She had high cheekbones that accentuated an angular jaw. Her lips were thin, with slight dimples at either end. Her nose was gracefully shaped, with a slight upturn. Her skin was quite fair.

Her eyes held Macen's attention. They were quite large, crowned with long lashes. They were also the darkest grey Macen had ever seen. They expressed barely restrained curiosity and passion. They spoke of a far-reaching and questing intelligence that was akin to Macen's own.

She was fairly tall. She stood over both Danan and P'ris. Her frame was thin and rangy. Qek did not possess an athletic build, her thinness derived as much form living on rations as to biology.

"Where is Captain Carrase?" Macen asked.

"She is in the Command Centre." She replied crisply, "I will show you the way." She turned and entered the complex. Macen walked alongside her. Danan and P'ris followed closely behind. One of the three armed Marines trailed behind. The other two remained stationed on the balcony.

"Where have my men arrived at?" Macen asked.

Qek gave him a confused look, then smiled. "They are at the primary troop barracks. They are there awaiting their next orders. Those will be forthcoming after your meeting with Captain Carrase."

They marched in silence for some time. They navigated the labyrinth of passages until they reached a heavily constructed double door. Macen floated in a stream of memories. He'd previously served in installations similar to this. Although, the differences in purpose were rather glaring.

The doors opened outwardly. Qek led them inside. Several techs manned various posts. Standing over them was a small, dark skinned woman.

"Captain Carrase," Qek said respectfully, "the new officers are here."

Carrase turned to inspect the new "replacements". Her eyes widened in surprise, "Captain Macen, I wasn't aware that you'd joined us."

Macen shrugged, "It wasn't a matter that was discussed among many." He'd known that there was a chance that some of the personnel here might recognise either Danan or himself. Carrase seemed to accept this explanation.

"I can understand why." Carrase commented, then changing the topic, "May I ask why you are here?"

"Starfleet has obtained evidence of this installation's existence." Macen told her, "I'm here to review your records and see if there is an informant among your personnel."

"The records are not stored here." Carrase replied, "They are in the Archives building. They are primarily Lieutenant Qek's responsibility."

Qek flushed slightly at Carrase's shifting of potential blame. Macen didn't blame her, "Then we should start there."

Carrase motioned towards the doors and the company stepped out of them once more. As they were leaving, P'ris raised her left wrist to her voice and discreetly said, "Proceed."

* * *

Derrico's wrist comm vibrated softly. He raised it to his ear and heard P'ris whisper, "Proceed." Derrico took two controlled breaths. _This_ was the moment he and his team had trained for over the last few days.

His people were spread out across the barracks. Each one had occupied a strategic position, both in terms of fire control and visibility. Every member of his team could see his every movement. His hand flashed the silent signal and the team's response was instantaneous.

It took less than three seconds to kill every soldier in the room. The team reached into their tactical vests and withdrew dark glasses. They put them on. Everyone's vision was now slightly enhanced. More importantly, electronic tags every crewman wore now transmitted a red "halo" around their wearer. Anyone wearing the glasses could easily identify their comrades.

The team slipped out of the barracks and divided into three units. Each unit was designated to find and destroy an anti-matter converter. Without the power generated by the modified warp cores, the shields and phaser banks would be inoperable. It was a fairly delicate brand of sabotage. A mistake could result in a core breach and the installation's destruction.

* * *

The _Odyssey_ sat beyond the Gulag's sensor range. T'Kir sat at her post watching the chronometer. If everything had gone according to plan, then the assault had begun. They could now move further into the system.

"Set course for Gulag." T'Kir ordered.

D'art looked at her console, but did not comply. T'Kir swivelled her seat so that she faced D'art.

"Hel-_looo_." She said waving her hand up and down, "Subspace calling Ensign D'art. _I_ said, 'Set course for Gulag'." She acted out, pointing at herself, then at D'art, "_You_ say, 'Yes sir, course laid in'. Then we sail off for the planet." She veered her arm off like a missile to illustrate her point.

"No." D'art growled from the back of her throat. She turned to face the Vulcan. Her face was livid with rage, "I say 'put your hands up'." She held a phaser and held it pointed at T'Kir.

T'Kir rolled her eyes, "You don't seriously think you'll stop everything from happening?" she asked laughingly.

"I don't need to." D'art sneered, "The forces down there will easily overwhelm the pathetic band sent down there."

"Ri_ght_." T'Kir replied scornfully.

"Get your hands up." D'art barked. T'Kir complied, putting her hands in the air. D'art leaned in closer, "I bet you didn't hear me say this."

"Actually," T'Kir answered, crooking her finger towards the door, "I did." D'art turned towards the left to see Kort stepping out if it armed with a Klingon disrupter.

D'art began to turn to aim at Kort. As she did, T'Kir spoke for the computer's benefit, "Computer, execute _Sarek One_."

D'art completed her turn and pressed the firing stud on the phaser. Nothing happened. She whirled to face T'Kir who stood grinning victoriously at her.

T'Kir blew her a kiss, "Got you."

"You…you…you…bi…" D'art began to scream before collapsing unconscious courtesy of a disrupter blast from Kort.

"All's well that ends well." T'Kir said brightly, then kicked D'art's still form.

"Stand down, T'Kir." Kort growled, "She is unable to defend herself. There is no honour in this."

T'Kir turned to him, her eyes hard with hatred, "Who cares about honour? I just want revenge."

Kort shook his head sadly as he bent to lift D'art.

* * *

Derrico's squad moved silently through the corridors. They were death to anyone that happened across them. Fortunately for both them and the Marines, they did not happen across many people. Derrico knew it would only take one miss for them to lose the element of surprise. He ignored his moral qualms and focused on not missing.

* * *

Carasse led the others into a small, cylindrically shaped room. The data core sat in the middle of the room. It was a crystalline structure that sat within a round dais. Molecular scanners stretched from the dais upward, surrounding the crystal. Data terminals were located in a circular pattern around the dais.

"This is our Archive." Carasse said proudly.

"I haven't seen a data matrix for nearly a hundred years." Macen murmured.

"Yes, we were fortunate to find one intact." Carrase replied.

He turned to face Carasse, "Have you ever considered what you are doing?"

Carrase looked perplexed, "Why…why should I?"

Macen shrugged, "Maybe to reflect on whether or not your actions are necessary, or even right?"

She was aghast, "No."

He sighed, "That's what I thought." Macen hit her across her jaw, sending her to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Qek asked in alarm. She jerked her pistol out of her holster.

"Listen to me carefully." Macen said slowly, turning towards her with his hands raised and his palms out, "Your superiors have been lying to you."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because they can't stand the truth." Danan replied, "It exposes things they can't stand to have revealed."

"Like what?" Qek stammered.

"Like the fact they aren't needed any more." Macen answered coldly.

"No." Qek snarled, "It's not true." She went for her phaser. Qek's mouth puckered. She sank to the ground. Behind her, P'ris held her disrupter. The feet of the other Marines could be seen to either side of her.

P'ris shrugged, "I could not let you get killed. I want to see what you will do next."


	8. Chapter 8

Derrico's fortunes changed radically as his team rounded the last corner before they would have reached the power core. His point man died as pulsar bursts ripped through her. The only good thing to have come from her death was that their ambushers had given away their positions. Not that it did Derrico or his unit any good, the opposition was dug in while the Starfleet "Marines" were fairly exposed.

Derrico heard a cry as another of his men went down. He thought it had been Hubert. His quick sweep verified that theory. He glanced towards Jansen as she returned fire at their opponents. Derrico wracked his brain for a solution to their "little" problem.

* * *

An explosion echoed throughout the corridors of the massive Gulag complex. The violent tremor that followed threw Macen, Danan, and P'ris from their feet. Macen sprang to his feet swiftly. Danan retrieved her rifle as she stood. P'ris looked indignant as she rose from the floor.

'What, may I ask, was that?" P'ris asked sharply.

"That was the sound of a detonation near a power core." Macen informed her.

"The explosion was too small for the core itself to have exploded." Danan commented, "I would guess that the power mains were detonated instead."

"_That_ was the plan." Macen replied archly.

The sound of pulsar fire caught their attention. Macen and Danan darted out of the Archives room and down the hallway. They reached a "T" junction and stopped. Before them lay a balcony with two guards firing down towards the ground. Screams could be heard form below.

Macen shot one the guards. Danan followed suit. They stepped warily out onto the balcony. Prisoners were running across the open courtyard.

More pulsar bolts lanced into the crowd. On a balcony across from where Macen and Danan stood, another guard had a heavy blaster set up and was firing. The tripod-mounted weapon was far more powerful than anything the Starfleet officers had brought with them. It was punching holes a half-metre in diameter into the ground. The effect it had upon living beings was horrifying.

"Cover me." Macen ordered.

Danan gave him a puzzled glance. Macen grew agitated, "I'm going to deal with him. I need you to distract him so that he stops firing into the crowd."

Danan's expression was that of a person dealing with a lunatic, "His weapon can punch holes in walls. There's no way I'll be able to hold his attention for long."

"Just do it!" Macen yelled as he re-entered the corridor. Danan took a deep breath and stepped back into the doorway. She raised the rifle to her shoulder, her lips twisting into a wry expression. She let out the breath and squeezed the trigger.

Her shots lanced out at the gunner across the courtyard. The distance was great enough that she could not make out his features. A remote part of her mind was amused that she automatically assumed her target was male. Her shots pocked the walls around the gunner. He ceased fire and Danan hoped beyond hope that she had killed him. When the blaster pivoted up towards her, she knew better.

Danan turned and started to run down the corridor Macen had just sprinted down. Blazing yellow bolts seared holes on the wall behind her. She dove to the floor, holding her breath as sections of the wall rained down around her. The firestorm halted several metres before her.

She paused a moment longer while the dust and acrid smoke cleared. She cautiously pushed herself off the floor. Crouched on one knee, she peered through one of the holes blasted through the wall. She could see the gunner traversing his weapon, seeking new victims for his bloodlust.

Danan's bangs clung to her sweaty face. She swiped her brow as she backed slightly away from the wall. She rested her rifle barrel in the hole she had peered through and aimed at the gunner. She squeezed the trigger and released a volley at the man's position.

As soon as she'd fired, Danan sprang to her feet and began running down the hall. A torrent of return fire cascaded through the space behind her as she ran. The flying shards of debris and superheated gasses licked at her heels. She stumbled, falling to the floor.

_Oh Gods,_ she thought as she fell, _this is it!_ The world flashed white as she hit the metal deck plating. She knew she should try and crawl further before the searing blast enveloped her. The throbbing in her head was too disorienting and she remained immobile for several moments before she realised that her fiery demise had not occurred.

She tried to stand, but her knees were still too wobbly. She groped for her rifle. Finding it, she crawled closer to the perforated wall. She ignored the minor burns she received from pieces of slag lying in her path.

The gunner had ceased fire because he had a new opponent. P'ris had realised what was occurring and had opened fire just in time to spare Danan's life. She could see green disrupter bursts lancing out towards the gunner. He turned the blaster in P'ris' direction and unleashed the deadly maelstrom of its wrath.

Danan brought her own rifle up. Her vision blurred and her hands shook. She couldn't hold the weapon steady. She cursed at herself. She had to try. P'ris had revealed herself trying to save her. She could do no less.

She pulled the trigger once again. The familiar throb of the weapon's discharge vibrated throughout her body. All of her anger, outrage, and desperation were poured out in that discharge. Her finger slid of the trigger. Her head slumped against the butt of the rifle. There was no escape. She did not have the strength left to move. She would die here, alone, without Brin's arms holding her.

* * *

Macen had run the length of the corridor until he hit a second "T" junction. He came around the corner with his pistol ready. Seeing that the way ahead was clear, he approached at a jog. He could hear the muffled explosions from the gunner's assault against Danan.

He reached the next intersection. It only went to his left. He peered around the corner cautiously. It served him well. The gunner had an accomplice in the hallway entrance of the balcony.

Macen holstered his sidearm and jogged purposefully forward. He was halfway to the balcony before the "guard" noticed him. _Amateur_, Macen thought derisively. The guard unslung his rifle and challenged Macen.

"I'm here to see if you require assistance." Macen informed the guard, walking towards him all the while.

"We are fine." The guard replied suspiciously, "Who sent you?"

"I received Captain Carrase's orders through Lieutenant Qek." Macen replied easily.

Macen was almost at arm's length from him. He could here the distinctive whine of a disrupter. P'ris must have joined the battle. The guard turned his head for a second to see what was occurring as his comrade swore visciously.

Macen's hand snapped the pistol out of the holster. He fired two shots point blank into the man's chest. He turned to the balcony's entrance. The gunner was pivoting his weapon to his left. Macen fired several shots into the man.

* * *

Danan woke up, finding her upper torso supported by someone else. She jerked reflexively, trying to recall how she had arrived at this position. Strong arms held her shoulders from behind, restraining her struggles. She wanted to shout a warning but found her throat too raw to utter anything beyond a strangled cry.

"Take it easy." She heard Macen say softly into her ear, "You had a concussion and were going into shock. This was the easiest way to keep you guarded and warm while P'ris sought medical equipment."

Danan relaxed. She slid her feet further under her. Their two bodies had been tucked into a corner. She used her change of position to lean forward and allow Macen to stand.

The world tilted on its axis as she moved forward. She placed a stabilising arm out and caught herself from falling. Her other hand went to her temple. The throbbing she experienced made her nauseous.

"Are you alright?" Macen asked.

She glanced upwards. The concern in his eyes belied the stern expression he wore on his face. She nodded.

"What about the symbiot?" he asked.

"_We_'ll be fine." She said as convincingly as she could. She tried to rise and found her knees still a tad shaky. Her eyebrows rose, "Although I could use a hand in getting up."

A ghost of a smile flittered across Macen's stony visage. He thrust out his hand.

He glanced towards the door of the room they were in, "P'ris should have returned by now." His voice went as cold as his expression, "Something's wrong."

"Then let's solve the problem." Danan suggested.

Macen nodded his approval. He removed her pistol from where he had held in the small of his back and handed it to her butt first. Her expression was one of wry amusement as she returned the pistol to her holster. She gave him an expectant stare.

He shrugged and moved to where he had placed the rifle. He picked it up and handed it to her. She smiled and patted the gun indulgently. She noticed his scrutiny and gave him an embarrassed smile.

Macen pulled his pistol out and readied it in a two-handed grip. He took a last glance towards Danan. She held her rifle levelled at her hip. She still appeared shaken, but her eyes still shone with fierce determination.

"Let's go." He said quietly. His grim certainty was something of a comfort to her. She knew Macen would walk through the bowels of Hell if he felt it was necessary. His willingness to do so for an ally they barely knew was an example of why she loved him.

Macen exited the room. Danan followed. They proceeded down the corridor. No one appeared before or behind them.

"Where are they?" Macen muttered.

An explosion ripped through the complex. Another power main had been destroyed. A shriek filled the air as tremendously brilliant streaks of light surged into the sky.

"They've activated the anti-ship batteries." Danan informed him.

"They're firing on the _T'Kut_." Macen commented dispassionately, "That's what distracted P'ris." He turned his full attention to Danan, "How do we stop them?"

She pondered the question momentarily. Her expression hardened, "We proceed to Command Centre. We can deactivate the system from there."

Macen's eyebrow quirked upward, "Lead the way, Commander."

Danan nodded, then reversed course and went they way that they had come. They passed the section of wall mutilated during Danan's duel with the gunner. They proceeded further, passing the Archive that had become a tomb.

* * *

Macen and Danan reached the Command Centre several minutes later. The double doors were sealed and locked. Danan punched a code sequence into a console to the doors' left.

"I hope the codes still work." She murmured. A blue beam projected from the ceiling, enveloping her body.

"Code clearance accepted." A mechanical voice announced. The doors opened and Macen and Danan stepped through. A worried looking tech noticed them and turned and rose from his seat. Danan unleashed a pulsar burst into him. Macen snapped into action, shooting seated techs one by one down the sequence of chairs on his side of the room. Danan did likewise down her side.

Danan slung her rifle over her shoulder and approached one of the consoles. She manipulated several controls. Half of the displays in the Centre went lifeless. She turned to Macen with a satisfied smile on her face.

"I've deactivated the defence system." She informed him proudly, "All systems are now locked down and cannot be reinitialised without my clearance."

"What about internal sensors?" Macen asked.

"At our disposal." Danan answered.

Macen nodded in approval, "Find our people." And then as an afterthought, "And find out if the _Odyssey_ is here yet."

* * *

"We've achieved standard orbit." Ensign Grace, the acting helmsman reported.

'Understood." T'Kir acknowledged, "Contact the _T'Kut_. See if she needs assistance." She turned towards Ensign Killian, the acting Ops officer, "Any signals from Captain Macen?"

"Negative, sir." Killian answered her voice taut with worry.

T'Kir's face was a frozen masque, "Do not worry too much, Ensign. Such distractions will make one less efficient."

Grace and Killian both turned to face the acting captain. T'Kir shook her head, as though clearing out another's thoughts. She noticed the ensigns' scrutiny.

"What?" she asked defensively. Both junior officers hurriedly returned their focus to their consoles.

* * *

"She's here." Danan reported, "Right on schedule."

"That's amazing." Macen replied. Lisea chuckled. Neither of them had believed T'Kir would get the ship here on time.

She looked up with a stricken expression on her face, "The ship's unstable."

Macen's face fell, "What?"

"The warp core, the structural integrity field…_everything_! She's destabilising." Danan explained, "The ship is breaking down at the quantum level."

Macen sighed, "Can you determine the source of the breakdown?"

Danan returned her attention to the scanner read-out, "It appears that the engines are putting out a low level transwarp signature. The resulting dimensional stress is breaking down the ship's atomic cohesion."

"The Federation doesn't have transwarp technology." Macen muttered, "They louse it up every time."

He glanced up at Danan, "Is there any way to recalibrate the warp engines to avoid creating the transwarp effect?"

"Not from what I'm reading here." She replied grimly, then met his gaze, "I may be able to re-evaluate that determination with a first-hand examination of the engines."

"That's what I thought." He replied in resignation, "How long until the ship falls apart?"

Danan shrugged, "Another day, maybe two."

"Focus on finding our Starfleet personnel. They're our first priority." Macen decided.

"What about the ship?" Danan asked quietly.

Macen looked slightly pained as he answered, "She's a good ship. She'll understand if we have to sacrifice her."

Danan nodded and returned to the sensor sweeps.

* * *

"The ship's what?" Tarrik asked incredulously.

"She falling apart Chief." Macen informed over the comm link Danan had established, "She's dissolving on the sub-atomic level."

"We'll fix that right up." Tarrik announced.

"No." Macen reply was bitter even to his own ears, 'No, we won't. Just try and stabilise the effect for as long as you can. Any attempt at eliminating the problem would require the shutting down of the warp core. We don't have time for that."

"And why not?" Tarrik demanded in outrage.

"This base is a symptom Chief." Macen responded calmly, feeling his engineer's pain, "We need to get to Earth so we can deal with the disease."

There was a long pause, followed by a reluctant, "Aye, aye sir." Another pause, "She's too young and vital to go this way."

Macen closed his eyes, pinching the bridge if his nose between his thumb and forefinger "They both were, Chief."

"What?"

Macen shook himself, "Never mind, Chief. Just get to work on slowing down the dissolution of the bonds."

"Understood. Tarrik out."

* * *

Derrico and Jansen were still pinned down. They could hear the Marine defenders moving about around the power core. A disrupter beam went down the corridor between them. Derrico turned and barely restrained himself from killing Commander P'ris.

"Commander," his deep bass rumbled, "I almost killed you."

"I could have killed you if I had so desired." She reminded him archly. Derrico's face wound up in an expression of reprehension. She _could _have killed them, all because he'd been too focused on the obvious enemy. That did not settle well with him.

"Too true." He admitted tightly, "Why are you here? You are supposed to be with Captain Macen and Commander Danan."

"They are fine." P'ris replied coldly, "Commander Danan was injured, but your Captain was tending her."

"How have the others done?" Derrico asked.

P'ris' gaze turned sad, 'One core has been disabled, another destroyed."

"What about our people?"

P'ris knew the pain he would feel when he heard what he knew was coming, "The entire team was destroyed with the core. No one has heard from the second."

Derrico's knees nearly buckled. He shook his head, as if clearing away thoughts he didn't want to have.

"No." the word was a growl on the back of his throat, "We're not finished."

P'ris was astounded by the feral quality in Derrico's voice. There was a bloodlust there she'd never heard form him before. The Security Chief had struck her as being moribund by Starfleet rules and traditions. He had never appeared the type to succumb to murderous rage.

Derrico turned the corner and unleashed a volley of continuous fire. He bellow that would have struck fear into the soul of a Klingon loosed itself from his lips. Jansen aided his efforts. Several shots passed by him before he returned to his shelter.

"Feeling better?" P'ris asked sardonically.

* * *

"I have a firefight occurring in Core Centre Three." Danan reported to Macen, "I also have an unknown party of three moving away from Core One."

Macen nodded expressionlessly. "That'll be our people." he commented, the asked, 'Is there any opposition between them and the group at Core Three?"

Danan shook her head, "No. All Marine personnel seemed to be involved in the holding action at Core Three." She ran another series of scans, her brow furrowing. She squinted as she concentrated on the read-outs, "They seem to be…_damn_!"

"What?" Macen asked in sudden alarm at the frustrated concern in Danan's voice.

"They're trying to overload the core." She answered testily, "They've opened the regulators and are unbalancing the matter/anti-matter ratios."

"Meaning 'boom'?" Macen asked dryly.

Her eyes went wide for a moment. Her jaw closed as she realised that he was joking. Her mouth twisted into a grim smile, "Meaning _big_ boom."

"How do we stop it?"

"From here?" she asked in disgust, "We can't."

"How do we stop it _there_?" Macen asked pointedly.

Danan debated options, then determinedly replied, "Follow me."

* * *

"Sir!" Grace called out excitedly, "I'm detecting a warp core imbalance on the surface."

T'Kir leaned forward in her chair, "Can we beam down?"

Grace nodded, "We can, but the area surrounding the core seems to be experiencing energy discharges."

"What kind of discharges?"

"Weapons fire." Grace replied sombrely.

"Can we contact our teams?"

"No sir." The ensign manning Tactical answered, "A subspace disturbance is forming around the core. It is blanketing the vicinity of the core for a radius of seven kilometres."

T'Kir slammed her fist against the arm of the seat, "I need solutions people! What can we do?"

The only replies she received were blank stares.

* * *

Danan and Macen raced down corridors until they reached an access panel. Danan read the panel's designation and nodded. She keyed in an operational code into the panel's hatch. It opened with a hiss of escaping air.

"This inspection tunnel leads all the way to the core." She informed Macen, "We can use it to flank the Marine team."

"Good thinking." He commended, then motioned towards the hatch, "Once again, after you."

* * *

A resonant hum throbbed outward from the core. Derrico noted the change and glanced towards P'ris, "Is that what I think it is?"

P'ris nodded in resignation, "Yes. They are creating a matter/anti-matter fusion imbalance. Soon, we shall all be sub-atomic particles spread across the quadrant."

Derrico took a deep breath and drew his pulsar rifle close to his chest, "Not if we kill them before they finish."

P'ris smiled approvingly, "Spoken like a true warrior." She checked the power pack of her disrupter. Satisfied, she nodded in the direction of their opponents, "Shall we?"

* * *

"We're almost there." Danan assured Macen.

They reached the bottom of the ladders and she saw the hatch she was seeking. She took a final glance towards Macen. He was fine, and looking to her for an indication of where to go next. She nodded towards the hatch.

She keyed the hatch. It opened outwardly. She crouched behind it, weapon trained on the opening. Although weapons fire could be heard, none of it was in the hatch's direction.

Danan slowly moved her way through the hatch. Macen followed. They found themselves on a catwalk above and behind the power core. Several Marine techs were hurriedly making adjustments on multiple panels. Armed Marines were flanking them and firing at unseen opponents on the other side of the core.

"Well, we seem to have maintained the element of surprise." Danan commented optimistically.

"You move further to the left." Macen ordered, "I'll take the right. When I start shooting, kill the techs."

"What about the guards?" Danan asked.

"Use your own discretion." Macen replied blandly.

They separated. Macen edged down the catwalk. He crouched low when he found a nexus of pipes and coolant hoses that offered _some_ cover at least. He glanced in Danan's direction. She gave him a thumb's up. Her facial expression was as impassive as his own was. There was no joy or satisfaction in this duty. It simply had to be done.

Macen took careful aim and fired his first shot into the back of the closest tech. The man lurched forward, his back a smoking ruin. It took two shots to hit and kill the next tech. The third had noticed the demise of the second and started to move. Macen fired off three rapid shots. The tech fell to the ground.

Danan lined up her sights on the innermost tech, much as Macen had. Her pulsar rifle was set on rapid fire. She depressed the trigger and cut a swath to her left. The streaming flashes of energy cut through the ranks of the hapless techs without care or mercy. One of the armed guards was cut down as well.

The final tech had been harder to hit, as one of the guards had began an exchange of fire with Macen. The tech had made an abortive run at a control panel. That effort cost him his life. The guard threw caution to the wind and stormed towards Macen.

* * *

Derrico's shout alarmed his companions more than his foes. That changed as he charged towards them firing his pulsar pistol with frighteningly inhuman accuracy. Jansen and P'ris were laying down cover fire with lethal effect. Derrico made for the cluster of guards to his left. As he came barrelling towards them, he realised he wasn't their only going concern.

As he reached the first positioned formerly occupied by a formerly living guard, he heard the cries of death and the sound of weapons fire from _behind_ the power core. The stench of burnt flesh hung thickly in the air as Derrico peered around the core towards the remaining guards. There were two of them left, pinned down by fire being poured down form an overhead catwalk. He decided to settle that issue and promptly shot the guards.

The shooter on the catwalk wavered for a moment, then threw an acknowledging wave and went towards Derrico's left. He continued to skirt around the core. As he came around the backside, he saw the female shooter drop into a crouch and open fire on a Marine charging towards a ladder leading up to the catwalk. Derrico could also see Macen as he continued to exchange fire with the remaining guards.

After a moment's consideration, Derrico continued creeping around the core. When he was within sight of the first Marine, he shot her. She fell to the ground. He could hear an anxious exchange between the remaining forces. Derrico felt it was time for a new tactic.

""Surrender." He shouted.

Macen and Danan heard Derrico's shout and ceased fire. Macen stood at his position and yelled to those below, "I am Captain Brin Macen of Starfleet Intelligence. Surrender now. You are surrounded and have no hope of victory." He paused, then continued, "You have fought valiantly and there is no dishonour in yielding."

There was a drawn out silence, then the sound of weapons clattering to the floor. Four bedraggled men and women walked out form their refuge with their hands raised. Derrico quickly herded them into a corner while keeping his weapon trained on them. Jansen and P'ris ran to join him as Macen and Danan scrambled down the ladder.

"Can you stabilise the conversion ratios?" Macen asked.

Danan nodded, her face drawn and distant. Macen realised this was a sign of concentration, not concern. He waved her towards the consoles, "Then get to it."

He met P'ris where she stood by the prisoners, "Glad to see you're still alive Commander."

She raised a speculative eyebrow, "Really? I would have thought you would be quite upset with me for abandoning you to your vigil over Commander Danan."

Macen nodded, "I am, but I understand your motivation."

P'ris laughed, "That is good, for I will never understand yours Captain Macen."

Macen shrugged, "Keep them guessing."

Her mouth quirked into a cynical smile, "And you were able to avoid using the term 'enemies'. I am quite impressed."

He turned to her. His face was a stoic masque, his eyes fierce. "Don't be."

Macen turned away and strode towards Danan.

* * *

"The weapons fire seems to have stopped." Grace reported.

"Have a team comprised of Security and Medical beam to the site immediately." T'Kir ordered.

"Aye, sir."

* * *

"Everything has been stabilised." Danan reported wearily as she draped across a handrail.

Macen looked mildly amused, "Good job Lieutenant Commander."

Transporter shimmers appeared near the core. A dozen Security and Medical personnel from the _Odyssey_ joined their comrades. One of the Security men conferred briefly with Derrico. Derrico then reported to Macen.

"Sir, two teams have been sent down. The second team is with Insertion Team One. They are now inspecting the prisoners." He reported crisply, then after a moment's hesitation, "Lieutenant T'Kir also sends word of Ensign D'art's arrest on charges of mutiny."

"Bloody hell." Macen snarled. He walked away with his hands on his hips and paced for a moment. After a moment, he returned to the others. "Have the prisoners beamed directly to the brig. Commander Danan will provide you with the location of the Archives Library. Send a Medical team there to remove the bodies from it. Also, try and locate a representative for the prisoners. I want to personally talk to some of the detainees."

Derrico nodded sombrely. His apprehensions regarding deadly force had been resolved after testing his enemies' mettle. Derrico had seen some of the most brutal fighting during the Dominion War. He felt that the Marines would have made a good counter-measure to the Jem'Hadar.

"Aye, sir." He replied crisply, betraying none of the fatigue he felt.

"And Lieutenant?" Macen called after him. Derrico turned, still trying to hide his weariness. Macen smiled, "Have the Insertion Team members relieved as soon as possible."

"Aye, sir!" Derrico replied with real enthusiasm.

* * *

Macen stood with his back to the data crystal. His arms were folded across his chest and he was oblivious to the motion of the scanning arms running up and down the length of the crystal. He'd been retrieving the history of the prison and a partial list of its inmates. Macen ignored all of that. He was looking for the originators of this operation.

Macen's success as an intelligence analyst stemmed from his ability to step into his opponents' minds. In this case, it was the minds of those raised in an idealistic culture that abandoned all pretences of idealism. They felt that action, quiet and direct, was the best solution to any mounting crisis. The prisoners had been brought here because they fought on a battlefield Section 31 refused to engage in, the battle for people's hearts and minds.

* * *

Macen met with Valdrin, the designated representative of the Gulag's prisoners. The man was a Vulcan, and was on of the installations first inmates. He had the serene air that typified virtually every Vulcan, except for T'Kir. Macen wondered, not for the first time, why he'd rescued the lunatic Vulcan.

Valdrin offered Macen the split fingered salute of his people, "Greetings Captain Macen."

Macen returned it, "Greetings Representative Valdrin."

"I see you have perused my file." Valdrin replied dryly.

Macen gave the Vulcan a wry smile. When Valdrin's name had come to him as the prisoners' choice for a representative, he'd felt compelled to look up the Vulcan's "crimes". Valdrin's crime had consisted of was endorsing a philosophical system that urged emotional releases between the seven year Ponn Farr cycle. Valdrin had conjectured that it would lessen the potential health risks for couple's that were unable to reunite if they partook of his system. For that, he'd been sent to Gulag.

"I'm afraid I don't have a great deal of time here." Macen told Valdrin with regret, "I would however like to assure you that other vessels will be here shortly and inquire as to any requests you may have before we depart."

Valdrin's gaze remained level and placid as he spoke one word, "Justice."

Macen's eyebrows rose, but he remained silent as Valdrin explained the nature of that sole request, "We are quite well provisioned. We do however request that the perpetrators of this…_hypocrisy_ be brought before the law."

Macen's smile was predatory, "_That_ I can guarantee you."

* * *

Macen and Danan stopped by the office P'ris had taken as her own. "We're leaving now." Macen informed her, "I just wanted to thank you for your help."

P'ris smiled in bemusement, "As I recall, you bribed me."

Macen nodded, "That's true, but you didn't have to honour our arrangement."

P'ris shook her head, "No, I could not live with myself if I did not honour it. What is more, I still owe you a debt." Macen raised a hand in protest, but P'ris persisted, "It is true. I will watch over these souls until your Starfleet returns for them."

Macen's smile turned mischievous, "That also guarantees that Starfleet, and hence the Federation, will have to talk with you."

"So much the better." P'ris shrugged, "We all win."

The two commanders shook hands and then Macen commed his crew and requested transport.

* * *

Macen stepped off the transporter pad and turned to Danan, "Report to Sickbay. I want Kort to have a look at you."

"I'm fine." She protested.

"When's the last time you had your symbiot examined?" he asked.

"I'm fine." She assured him.

"Yuh, huh." He replied sceptically. His wry expression telling her what he thought of that assurance. She sighed, shrugged her shoulders and trudged off sullenly.

Macen stepped onto the bridge and immediately began giving orders, "Helm, set course for Earth. Plot your course through Klingon territory. T'Kir, contact the Klingons and inform them we are invoking the Zed protocol and direct transit through their territories. We also request a welcoming committee at Zed's table. Got that?" T'Kir nodded and hitting his comm badge, he continued, "Tarrik, I need maximum warp for as long as you can give it to me. Any problems and you talk to me."

"Aye, sir." Tarrik's guttural reply came over clearly.

"Get underway." Macen ordered, "I'll be in my Ready Room. Join me there in fifteen minutes."

"Aye, aye." Tarrik sounded as weary as Macen felt.

* * *

"What the problem with the engines?" Macen asked evenly.

Tarrik squinted at him, then shrugged in resignation, "The _Hydra_-class has a few...problems. That's why it was never put into production. Six prototypes were made before the decision was made to pursue other avenues."

"What kind of problems?" Macen asked, voice still chillingly level.

"It has to due with the impulse reactor." Tarrik answered, sounding like an Academy lecturer, "The reactor can't maintain integrity. It's mounted too close to the main warp drive. The first _Hydra_ was destroyed when its reactor lost containment."

"So why are we flying this one half-way across the galaxy?" Macen asked dryly.

Tarrik took a deep breath, "We thought we'd put a lid on the problem. We installed a new type of containment field. It uses adaptive field modulation to counter the shifts in the reactor core. It ties directly into the warp core so that it impulse reactor is shielded most heavily when we're at warp. That's when the imbalance usually occurs. Has something to do with the warp signature."

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that pieces of the failed transwarp drive were implemented into the engines?" Macen suggested sardonically.

Tarrik looked as sheepish as his porcine features allowed, "Well, that too."

Macen leaned forward on his desk and rubbed his forehead, "Didn't anyone _think _about this before we left?"

"It worked in simulation." Tarrik assured him.

"I'm sure it did, Chief." Macen replied wearily, "You'd better get back to it. Just hold us together as long as you can."

"Aye, sir."


	9. Chapter 9

Picard stepped into Alynna Nechayev's office. The Admiral was absorbed by the contents of a padd she held. She held up her other hand and motioned Picard closer. He broke into a wry smile and stepped forward.

It wasn't that he and the Admiral were enemies, they just had different methods of dealing with a crisis. Although Picard was adept at subtlety, he preferred keeping things as open and honest as possible. Nechayev, on the other hand, was the queen of mischief and mirrors. _That_, he mused, _is why she is the Director of Starfleet Intelligence and I'm a humble Starship captain._

Although, he had to admit, he wasn't that humble. He certainly wasn't vain, but the Captain knew exactly where his talents lay. He knew his strengths and how deeply they ran. His disparity with an egotist was that he was also aware of his many deficiencies.

Nechayev sat the padd down and gave him a pleasant smile, "How can I assist you, Captain?"

Picard returned the smile, "I believe that I may assist you."

Nechayev's interest was certainly piqued, "And how is that?"

"I would like to join in whatever efforts are being made to assist Captain Macen's mission."

Nechayev chuckled, "Just can't stay away, eh Picard?"

Picard chuckled good naturedly, "I suppose not."

Nechayev stood and motioned for him to follow, "Then you'd better follow me."

"Where are we going?"

"To Command and Control." Nechayev answered, "The Klingons reported Macen's transit across their space. Now he's making for Earth like a bat out of hell."

Picard gave her a wry grin, "He certainly can in that ship."

She nodded knowingly, "He certainly broke all of the _Enterprise's _records while eluding you."

"A fact that has been causing my Chief Engineer to lose some sleep." Picard replied.

"I'm sure Mr. LaForge will find a way to even the odds." Nechayev said consolingly.

* * *

The pair entered a turbolift near the Admiral's office. After receiving its destination orders it then received security clearance verification from both officers. Picard had never before gone to Command and Control, which was popularly referred to as the Nerve Centre. It was the cerebral cortex of Starfleet. It monitored every starship and outpost in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. Abandoned bases and colonies in the Gamma Quadrant were being re-established now that the war had ended, adding to the Nerve Centre's jurisdiction and reach.

Picard wasn't sure of what he was expecting when the doors opened, but the reality exceeded it. He'd thought the stellar cartography lab in the _Enterprise_ was impressive. Now he knew what impressive truly was. The entire room was a map of the galaxy with a central area with monitors and consoles. Any sector, any system with significant Starfleet presence could be brought up.

"I…I never knew." Picard whispered in awe.

"That _is _the idea." Nechayev chided.

"How is this possible?"

"Most of the data is received from traffic beacons and navigational satellites." Nechayev informed him.

"Isn't that slightly…" Picard paused as words escaped his grasp.

"Immoral, paranoid, or perhaps deceitful?" Nechayev asked sarcastically, "Come now, Captain, we monitor _vessels_. These systems are neither designed nor utilised to monitor individuals _upon_ a planet."

Picard knew the reasoning behind the Federation's prohibitions. Late twenty and twenty-first century Earth had utilised intelligence satellites to monitor first nations and then individuals. Before the wars that occurred just prior to First Contact, the satellites boasted powerful weaponry as well so they could eliminate those they observed. Nowhere had been shelter enough against their enhanced "senses".

"How can we track all of this?" he asked.

"It has become easier over the years." Nechayev admitted, "Neuro-gell pack technology has enhanced our capabilities greatly. The greatest factor though is that we concentrate our attention based upon reports received from starships on the line."

"Where is the _Odyssey_?" Picard asked.

Nechayev smiled, "Before we get to that, there's someone I'd like to introduce you to." She turned towards an officer watching over several of the techs and analysts, "Amanda, can you step over here?"

The woman that stepped over was young for her Admiral's rank. She wasn't much older than Picard had been when he'd received his first command. She had lines around the corners of her mouth and eyes, indicating her propensity towards smiling. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail.

Nechayev made introductions, "Admiral Amanda Drake, I'd like to introduce Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

The name made Picard's mind began reviewing references to where he may have heard it before. When he made the connection, his mouth dropped open.

"The 'Fire Drake'?" he asked incredulously.

Drake laughed. It had a rich, earthy flavour to it. "I see my reputation, and that of my granduncle, have preceded me."

Picard still found it difficult to believe. Amanda Drake was a veritable legend within the Internal Affairs Division of Starfleet. Her reputation was well earned as a vigorous investigator into malfeasance. That was partly derived from her own infamous grandfather's attempted coup at Khitomer.

Nechayev seemed to be reading his mind, "I couldn't let such obvious analytical talent remain wasted."

Picard shook his head. This was one of those points that the Admiral and he disagreed. She saw an officer with Drake's immense talent as being under-utilised in IA. Picard, on the other hand, felt that she had more than lived up to her potential. Such a disparity was typical of their professional differences.

"Admiral Drake has been tracking the developments surrounding the _Odyssey's _mission." Nechayev informed him. She turned to Drake, "What is her status?"

Drake grinned, "They cleared the Klingon Empire in record time. Their ETA in Sector Zero-Zero-One is currently forty-two hours."

"Any ships deviating from their assigned sectors to investigate or intercept?"

Drake shook her head, "No. I'm not sure of that's a good thing or a bad one."

"_That_ my dear Admiral," Nechayev said cynically, "remains to be seen."

* * *

Aboard the _Odyssey_, life had returned to a measure of normality. The crew had readily accepted the news of their ship's impending doom. They had little choice since their captain seemed resolute about returning her to Sector 001.

Macen and Danan spent most of their time trying to sort the terragigs of data. The sheer volume of what they'd captured was daunting. The worst revelations did not come in the form of the _who's_ or _why's_, but the absence of the complete picture. Section 31 had covered their tracks again. They'd left enough evidence to convict disposable members of the operation, but enough to reveal the totality of the Section's existence.

* * *

Picard had returned to the _Enterprise_ after his discussion with Admiral Nechayev. There truly wasn't a great deal he could do at this point except await further orders. The ship was in a southern orbit over Australia. Most of the crew was enjoying shore leave.

Riker and Daggit had volunteered to supervise a skeleton crew. Picard felt mildly guilty over this and wanted to give them the opportunity to partake of some leave themselves. When he entered the bridge, he was relieved to find both officers present. Both of them instinctively gave him their full attention.

"Commander Riker, Lieutenant Daggit, will you please report to my Ready Room?"

Both officers followed Picard. Once inside, he turned and smiled pleasantly, "It appears that things are going to be quiet for at last another thirty-six hours. If either, or both, of you would like some time on Earth, now is the time to take it."

Riker grinned laconically, "Deanna is with Dr. Crusher in Paris. They are taking some time to be 'girlish'. If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd like to stay aboard and help in any way I can."

Picard smiled appreciatively, then turned to Daggit, "And how about you, Lieutenant?"

The Angosian looked distinctly uncomfortable, "I…I decline the offer."

Picard and Riker exchanged a curious glance. Daggit's tone nervous tone bespoke of an inner turmoil that was threatening to overwhelm him. When dealing with the likes of an enhanced former commando with Daggit, _any_ kind of incident could prove fatal. Picard wanted to know if there was a potential hazard well before it may appear.

"Sir," Daggit said in a quavering voice, "I request that you place me under arrest."

Both Riker and Picard were visibly stunned by the unexpected request. "Is there any particular reason for this request?" Riker asked.

Daggit shifted his weight uncomfortably, "I have good reason. I am about to commit a direct violation of orders from a superior officer _and_ break Security Regulation Eleven."

Picard's head threatened to spin, but he refused to allow it, "You are about to reveal a Level Six secret? Why and how exactly did you come by this information?"

Daggit was sweating now, "Sir, I must ask that I be placed under arrest."

Picard shook his head, "You explain what secrets you are determined to divulge and I'll explain the matter to Admiral Nechayev."

"May I sit?" Daggit almost pleaded.

"Certainly." Picard answered motioning towards the couch.

Daggit sat and looked up uncomfortably at Riker and Picard, who remained standing, "It started when Brin Macen came to Angosia."

"You stated some displeasure at Mr. Macen's recruiting of you and your fellow commandos." Picard recalled.

"Yes." Daggit admitted with a heavy sigh, "There was that. The largest part was in how we were _used_."

"Used in what way?" Riker asked as he pulled up a chair and sat down, straddling it.

"Captain Macen was also in charge of our mission." Daggit admitted slowly.

"What mission?" Picard asked sharply, his eyes keen.

Daggit's face lost colour as several muscles flexed in his jaw, "We were assigned to a _Nova_ class starship, the _Infinity_."

Picard's eyes widened, "The _Infinity_ was lost before the Dominion War, in the Gamma Quadrant."

Daggit shook his head, "No, sir. She wasn't. That was her cover. She was re-assigned to Starfleet Intelligence. She was used for reconnaissance and insertion missions."

The bitterness in his voice left no doubt about the underlying nature of those missions, "Suicide missions." Riker said grimly.

Daggit nodded, "Yes, sir. We were assigned to the mission because we stood a better chance of surviving."

"I take it that wasn't the case." Picard said sourly.

"Unfortunately." Daggit tersely.

"What was Macen's reaction to this?" Riker asked.

Daggit snorted, "I think a small part of the Captain died every time a member of the crew bought it. There wasn't anything he could do about it."

"He couldn't protest the nature of the assignments?" Picard scoffed.

Daggit's eyes became fierce, "No, sir. He couldn't."

"And why not?" Picard asked sombrely.

"I think he was trying to make amends." Daggit admitted aloud for the first time.

"For the deaths of the Maquis?" Picard asked.

Daggit nodded vigorously, "Yeah. Every death just made him more determined."

"Did you consider him unfit for command?" Picard asked seriously.

Daggit paused before answering, "No, sir. We never thought that. Captain Macen did his duty. He did a damn good job of it too."

"Then why the anger towards him?"

Daggit's eyes held intense pain in them as he answered, "He was too damn good. We didn't all go out in a bang. We kept succeeding, and every time we succeeded, they sent us to another death trap."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Picard told him, "Those admissions could not have come easily."

"No, sir." Daggit admitted ruefully, "They didn't."

"Here is another difficult question." Picard warned him, "Do you feel capable of performing your duty to the best of your ability?"

Daggit looked from Picard to Riker. There was an intense struggle occurring behind his eyes. His face contorted as he faced his own limitations and desires. Finally, he shook his head.

"No, I don't." he said hoarsely, "I just want to go somewhere quiet, where I don't have to fight any more."

Picard reached down and squeezed the man's shoulder, "I believe that can be arranged.

Picard beamed down to meet with Admirals Nechayev and Drake. Daggit had been sent to Starfleet Medical to seek further treatment for his "alterations". He was also being placed on Inactive Duty until a posting on a tranquil world could be found. Nechayev had been upset by Daggit's initial disclosures but had been pleased by their effect upon Picard, so she had forgiven them. Which was not to say she had forgotten them in any way.

* * *

Drake excused herself in order to continue her monitoring of the _Odyssey's _progress. Picard and Nechayev sat across from each other in her office and glared at one another.

"How could you?" Picard asked accusingly, "How could you send these men on these missions, knowing full well the state they were in? My God, we _denied_ Angosia's admission to the Federation owing to their treatment of those commandos. What kind of message have we sent them by returning to utilise that which we condemned?"

"That didn't matter at the time." Nechayev replied dispassionately, "What did matter were the thousands of deaths that were taking place on a _daily_ basis."

"Of course it matters!" Picard protested, "It always matters."

"Don't even slip into your _higher than thou_ mode with me, Picard." She warned him coldly, "I will not tolerate it. That attitude of yours is exactly why you and your crew served on the periphery of the war and not directly under Admiral Ross' command."

"My attitude?" Picard asked, stunned.

"You seem to think that you are the conscience of Starfleet." Nechayev answered scornfully, "I hate to inform you, but we already have an Inspector General. You're devotion to the ideals of the Federation are admirable." Her eyes softened a bit, "In fact, that devotion is one the single greatest reasons why I respect you." Her eyes narrowed again, "However, you allow your personal indignation interfere with certain…_necessities_ of war."

"Such as exploiting broken men for reasons of expediency?" Picard snapped.

"Such as utilising a forgotten resource that may obtain the data necessary to preserve _trillions_ of lives." Nechayev voice flashed with inner fire, "These men were the most highly qualified individuals in the entire damned Alpha Quadrant for what we were asking of them."

"Are you suggesting that I should have abandoned my recruiting of them because I didn't agree with how they received those qualifications?" she asked acidly. "Hell, I don't like how most Andorians receive their combat training at home, but I don't let that affect my judgement on whether or not I should allow them to serve."

Picard's jaw worked side to side for a moment, "I am forced to agree with your logic, but not the practice of it." His voice grew quieter, "Macen served under you. How could you send him on a mission like this?"

"War is hell, Captain." Nechayev replied thickly, "It forces you to put aside personal considerations in favour of professional ones. This man faced the Borg and survived. He fought in the Cardassian wars. He's fought against species we've never heard of yet. He's an expert on intelligence gathering and system surveys. He was the best choice for the mission."

"And of the price to him personally?" Picard archly demanded.

"It's a price he's willing to pay." Nechayev answered in a voice that made space seem warm.

* * *

"We've got a problem." Tarrik grunted.

Macen sighed, "What is it, Chief?"

"The quantum breakdown is accelerating due to the prolonged use of the warp drive at maximum." Tarrik informed him.

Macen leaned against the railing that surrounded the warp core, "How long do we have?"

"Maybe twenty hours."

Macen gave the engineer a sharp glance, "_Maybe_ twenty hours?"

"Give or take eight hours."

Macen dropped his face into his hand, "Our ETA for Earth is eighteen hours. Can you hold her together that long?"

Tarrik shifted his weight uncomfortably, "I don't know, sir."

Macen patted him on the shoulder, "Your orders are to find a way."

"Aye, sir." Tarrik replied with a profound sense of fatalism.

* * *

"At least we have a list of those responsible." Macen commented, twirling a padd between his hands.

"We have a list of every political leader and every Marine officer involved." Danan clarified.

The rest of the senior staff nodded appreciatively. The group surrounding the Briefing Room table had changed quite a bit since they'd left Spacedock. One of their former number now lay in the brig. That knowledge, and the knowledge of the impending destruction of their vessel, had eroded much of their original confidence.

"I will be beaming down _alone_ to the Council chambers when we reach Earth." Macen informed them.

Derrico and Kort both erupted into protests in stereo. Macen held up a hand to deflect their voices. When they didn't halt their protestations, he slammed that hand down on the table. The silence that followed was profound.

"I will travel to the surface alone." He repeated, his voice rigid, "Commander Danan will remain here in command." His eyes swept every face in the room, searching for further protests. Finding none, he continued, "Several members of Starfleet have been identified as being involved. Some are involved without their knowledge of the consequence of their actions."

His eyes locked on Danan's, "If something happens to me, you are to use whatever means prove necessary to get someone to examine the evidence we have gathered."

"Yes, sir." She said through gritted teeth.

"Now that this has been settled, I need to everyone to focus on something else." He said gravely, "Try and find a way to hold this ship together."

* * *

Picard and Nechayev joined Drake in the Nerve Centre. They arrived to find the complex in quite a stir.

"What's going on?" Nechayev demanded of Drake.

Drake looked stricken, "We have two ships moving on an intercept course towards the _Odyssey_."

"Which two?" Nechayev's voice was as fierce as her facial expression.

"The _Charleston_ and the _Reclamation_." Came the answer.

"Who ordered the interception?"

"I did." Answered a confident voice from the opening lift doors, "Just as I'm about to order your arrests."

Nechayev, Drake, and Picard all looked at Admiral Edward Jellico in stunned astonishment.

* * *

"What's our status?" Macen asked.

"Sensors are clear." T'Kir reported.

"Tactical at stand-by." Derrico added.

There was a pause from Danan. Macen stood from his chair and looked back, "Commander Danan, do you have something to report?"

Danan frowned as she turned from her display, "Someone's trying to masque it, but a lot of comm traffic nearby is about us."

"That's to be expected." Macen assured her, "We _are_ breaking every speed and traffic lane reg in the quadrant."

She shook her head, "No, sir. Most of the traffic is being scrambled. It's also being directed at mobile receivers."

"Starships." Derrico said even as Macen thought it.

"Can you triangulate the position and bearing of those ships." Macen asked.

"I can try." She replied.

"T'Kir, what's our ETA for Earth?"

"Eight hours."

_I just hope we make it_, he thought to himself.

"I couldn't agree more, sir." T'Kir whipped off.

"Stay out of my thoughts, Lieutenant." He sighed.

"Don't think about me so hard and I will." She cracked.

"You wish I thought about you that hard, Lieutenant." He whipped back.

"Yes, sir." She replied earnestly, "That I do."

* * *

Jellico had not come to the Nerve Centre alone. With him were two individuals, one male and one female, both in Starfleet uniform. The man wore command departmental colours and the rank insignia of a Commander. The woman wore Security gold, based on the phaser on her hip, and bore Lieutenant Commander's rank pips.

"Allow me to introduce two of my aides." Jellico said laconically, "My chief of staff, Commander Hal Ran." He motioned toward the man on his right. "And my Strategic Advisor, Lt. Commander Della Voos."

Picard's eyes narrowed as he scrutinised both officers, "Have you thoroughly examined their records?" Picard asked with a hint of irony.

"Of course not." Jellico flustered, "Why would I do that?"

"We _are _investigating a conspiracy involving elements of Starfleet Intelligence and Security." Picard replied mildly.

"Not on my staff." Jellico informed him smugly.

"And how well do you know them?"

"Dammit Picard!" Jellico snapped, "You can not divert me from your failure with these baseless innuendoes."

"What failure?" Picard asked angrily.

"The failure to report directly to me if you had _any_ contact whatsoever with Macen." Jellico reminded him.

"That order was superseded by those of a superior officer and extenuating circumstances." Picard replied flatly.

"Which brings us to the other member of this little conspiracy." Jellico sneered.

Jellico approached Nechayev and stood inches from her face, "Did you really think you could get away with this?"

Nechayev's eyes narrowed, "I am trying to end the conspiracy, not achieve its ends." Her voice became scornful, "Can you say the same, Eddie?"

* * *

"The receiving ships are almost four hundred thousand kilometres out." Danan informed Macen.

"Can they intercept?" Macen asked calmly.

"Not before we reach Sector Zero-Zero-One." Danan reported.

Macen found her detachment refreshing. The others found such news either comforting or dismal. The name Sector Zero-Zero-One, or Earth, did not evoke all that much of an emotional reaction from it. It was just another place to Macen. The world of his birth was across the galaxy.

"Good." He replied with grim satisfaction.

* * *

"You are accusing me of trying to deport Federation citizens to some Romulan hellhole?" Jellico laughed in her face, "That's rich Alynna."

"Then why are you here, interfering with our attempts to stop it?" she asked harshly.

"I was informed of the plot by Commander Voos. Commander Ran confirmed it. They showed me proof of Starfleet Intelligence's complicity." Jellico answered confidently.

"And where did they obtain this evidence?" Nechayev asked.

Jellico's mouth opened in reply, then snapped shut. He stepped back from Nechayev. His eyes stayed locked on hers. He motioned Ran and Voos forward.

"Hold them here." He said as a cocky smile crossed his face, "We'll witness the capture of the _Odyssey_ and the capture of her incriminating evidence from here."

* * *

The hours ticked by slowly. The tension level ratcheted upwards. Although most of the crew were veterans of the Dominion War, the majority still were not seasoned enough not to let their tension show. If he hadn't been trying so hard not to demonstrate his own case of nerves, Macen would have found it amusing.

He'd discovered early on that half of command was sitting back and appearing confident while the crew did their jobs. That wasn't always the easiest thing. It was hardest when things could easily go to hell. He had to admit that this was one of those situations.

The pursuing Starfleet vessels were only forty minutes behind them. The good news was that they were only ninety-six minutes from Earth. The bad news was that they had no clue as to the reception they'd be receiving. To make matters worse, Tarrik's latest estimate placed the ship as crumbling apart in three hundred minutes.

There was nothing he could do about it, so the Captain remained focused on appearing confident for the rest of the crew's sake.

* * *

"Where will Captain Macen deliver his report?" Ran asked Nechayev softly.

Nechayev heard the ice underneath his polished veneer and knew that his question would only be asked once this politely. She shrugged, "With Macen, who knows?"

Ran slapped her across the face. The echo of it rang across the Centre. Several techs looked away from their consoles to observe what was happening. Picard started forward but was stopped by Voos pulling her phaser out and pointing it at his chest.

"Is this necessary?" Picard shouted in outrage.

Ran gazed at him coldly. Picard could see the contempt in the Commander's eyes, "She must learn respect _and _obedience."

"Now wait a minute." Jellico protested from behind Ran, "I never authorised the use of force. They will be interrogated by the proper…"

""Silence!" Ran roared, "Or I will have you silenced."

Jellico's face turned an interesting shade of purple, but his mouth clamped shut.

Ran gave Nechayev a reproachful look, "let us begin again, Admiral. Where will Macen deliver his report?"

Nechayev gave him a brittle smile. Her face was already swelling and bruising.

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you." She said with steel lacing her every word.

Ran's next blow caught her squarely in the abdomen. She collapsed to the deck, gasping for air. Picard rippled again. Voos edged closer.

Ran turned to Picard. He still wore a wintry smile, "I see that this is getting us no where. We'll simply have to wait and see what the good captain decides to do."

* * *

"Sector One Traffic Control has us on their scopes." Derrico reported then smirked, "They're asking us to slow down"

Macen shook his head with a chuckle, "We'll slow down at the emergency lunar marker."

He rose from his chair and went to the Science Station. He leaned over Danan's shoulder.

"There's something I have to show you." He whispered.

She glanced up into his eyes. She was calm and confident. Macen was grateful for her unspoken support. Her commitment to his plan meant more to him than any accolades they might receive _if _they stayed alive long enough to get any.

He handed her a padd, "Read the contents of this, then delete the data."

Both his tone and his emotionless expression told her what this would be. She glanced down and it confirmed her guess. She read it quickly, committing it to memory. She hit the delete key and the data flashed off the screen.

She met his gaze levelly, "If it proves necessary, the orders will be carried out."

She was grateful she'd managed to keep her voice as level as her gaze. She knew he'd given her the orders to prepare her, and as a sign of his trust in her. She knew she couldn't willingly betray that trust.

Macen gave her a wry smile, "I wish it weren't necessary, Lisea, but it will be."

* * *

Alarms sounded throughout Starfleet Command. Those alarms were spread throughout the system. Spacedock went on alert and raised its shields. In orbit, the _Enterprise_ also raised shields and awaited the _Odyssey's _arrival.

Riker sat in the command chair and wondered why he hadn't heard from Captain Picard yet. He knew that Picard had desired to extend any assistance he could to the _Odyssey's _crew. He'd expected to receive orders on how to accomplish that. He had not expected a system wide alert.

"Break orbit Lt. Perim." Riker instructed.

The Trill helmsman's fingers flew over her console, "Leaving orbit now." She reported.

Riker turned to Data, "Data, can you plot where the _Odyssey_ will attempt orbital insertion?"

Data studied his sensor display for a moment then lifted his head and stared at the viewer in a distracted way. He became "cognisant" seconds later and turned to face Riker, "I believe the _Odyssey's _best insertion trajectory will place them over Paris."

_And over the President's Office, the Federation Council Chambers,_ Riker mused in begrudging appreciation of the high-speed approach.

"That's going to take a hell of a helm officer." Perim commented.

"Come now, Lieutenant," Riker chided with a twinkle in his eye, "you could make that insertion easily."

She turned and gave him a mischievous grin, "That's because I _am_ one hell of a helm officer."

Experience told Riker not to debate her. All the evidence was stacked in her favour.

* * *

Danan sat in the command chair. Macen had stepped off the bridge in order to go to Transporter Room One. They had just dropped to impulse and were headed straight for Earth at full thrust. Although she and T'Kir had programmed the orbital insertion together, she still had qualms about it. T'Kir on the other hand…the Vulcan was at her station bobbing her head up and down.

Danan had asked her about it earlier. The Vulcan had referred to it as "head-banging". Not only that, but it was…"to rock". The metaphor was absolutely lost on Lisea. She could see no point in pretending that one was intentionally bashing one's head into a rock. If it were an opponent then certainly, and by all means, but a _rock_?

T'Kir stopped "banging" and turned give Danan a look of strained patience, "It's not _into_ a rock, it's _rocking _out." She gave Lisea a chilly stare with implications regarding Danan's intelligence, "Just forget about it. You'll never get it."

With that, T'Kir returned to her instruments. She also did it without any bizarre movements of her head. For that, Danan was grateful. This next manoeuvre would be difficult enough without wondering about the ship's Ops officer's sanity.

" I _heard_ that." T'Kir called out accusingly.

* * *

"They are beginning their orbital insertion." Data reported.

"Put it on main viewer." Riker ordered.

The manoeuvre was as elegant as it was unorthodox. The ship "slid" into orbit by turning sideways and letting the outer atmospheric shell of the planet assist in the braking. Riker could only wonder at what kind of adjustments to the shields and structural integrity fields had been required. Data and Perim were equally impressed.

Data examined his sensor displays, "One transport beam has been directed at the planet's surface."

"Location?" Riker asked, instantly cautious.

"The Federation Council's Chambers Complex." Data reported, then cocked his head to one side, "Two more ships are in-bound, dropping out of warp."

Riker fought the urge to swear. The lunar marker was the closest anyone was allowed to use warp engines for reasons of safety. The Terran-Lunar corridor was filled with traffic. Dropping out of warp this close to the planet could prove disastrous.

"Sir!" Data called out with alarm, "One of the ships has just collided with a freighter."

"Damage?" Riker asked with a mixture of anger and concern.

"The starship is undamaged, her shields were up." Data replied efficiently, then he paused for several seconds, "There are no life signs in the wreckage of the freighter."

Riker could hear the sorrow in the android's voice thanks to his emotion ship. Riker shoved his own aside as anger swelled up in him to replace it.

"Give me the name's of those two starships." He growled.

"The _Charleston_ and the _Fortitude_." Data reported.

"Hail them." Riker ordered.

* * *

"Shields up." Danan ordered.

"Captain," Tarrik's voice came over the comm, "We cannot go into combat. The ship won't hold together."

"I don't plan to, Chief." Danan informed him, "Please report to the Cargo bay. Co-ordinates have been laid into the controls. Stand-by for further orders after arrival."

"I can't abandon my post." Tarrik protested.

"You aren't." Danan replied with quiet strength, "You are being ordered to another."

A moment's pause, then a grudging, "Aye, sir."

Danan turned to Derrico, "Inform the crew to proceed to the escape pods. We're abandoning ship."

Derrico managed to avoid releasing a strangled cry. He nodded mutely and complied. Danan turned to the faces staring at her across the bridge. She smiled wanly.

"That goes for all of you as well, with the exception of the senior staff and Ensign Grace." The crewmen stared at each other in stunned silence then began to clear the bridge.

Danan turned to Derrico, "Mr. Derrico, please hail our pursuers."

Derrico's face twisted into a wry grimace, "I don't have to. They're hailing us."

* * *

Alarms sounded across the Nerve Centre. Panicked techs darted from one station to another. Several yelled instructions to one another, then silence descended. The eerie calm was broken by Ran's impatient voice.

"What's happened?"

A tech turned to him, his face glazed over with numb shock, "The _U.S.S. Fortitude_, It just collided with the freighter, _Olga,_ coming out of warp."

"Was the starship damaged?" Ran demanded.

The tech slowly shook his head. His words came slowly, as if in a dream, "No. Her shields were up, but…there're no life signs from the _Olga_." The techs eyes were filled with anguish and pain, "They're _dead_."

"The fortunes of war." Ran replied coldly.

"This isn't a damn war." Picard growled.

Ran's head snapped around, "Isn't it? It has become a war of ideology hasn't it? Your way versus our way?"

Picard shook his head sadly, "There is no struggle occurring except for the one you are creating."

Ran's smile made Picard's blood run cold, "I did nothing to _create_ this struggle, Captain. All of the participants have been awaiting their opportunity for the actions we have undertaken. We have merely channelled that desire."

Picard's eyes narrowed, "Channelled it into what, exactly?"

Ran's eyes shone with his zeal, "The chance to preserve the Federation. To strengthen it beyond harm."

* * *

"Put them on main viewer." Riker said with unnatural calm.

The screen came to life, revealing a man Picard's age. He was slightly heavier, giving him a stocky appearance. His thinning hair was shot with white. He wore a salt and pepper Van Dyke beard. His features were hard and set.

"Captain…Picard?" the man said, his eyes narrowing as he focused on his viewer image, "I am Captain Johann Guttman."

"I am Will Riker, the First Officer of the _Enterprise_." Riker informed him.

"Where is Picard?" Guttman asked suspiciously.

"Captain Picard is at Starfleet Command attending to pressing matters." Riker replied, "May I ask why you and your fellow captain violated the warp prohibitions in place around this planet?"

Guttman stiffened even further. Riker thought the man might implode. "My fellow officers and I are in pursuit of a dangerous foe to the Federation." He snarled.

"And that authorises you to kill an innocent freighter crew?" Riker asked with steel in his voice.

Guttman's face coloured with rage, "We are going to apprehend these fugitives, _Commander_." He spat out Riker's rank, "Be advised that any…_any_…interference will be met with deadly force."

"I have been so advised." Riker informed him defiantly, "I'm sure you'll recognise my decision when I reach it."

Guttman stifled a curse as he killed the comm link between vessels.

* * *

"Surrender your vessel _now_!" Captain Sarah Mackenzie demanded.

Lisea gazed back at her dispassionately, "Very well. We will lower shields and allow your boarding parties aboard. We will lower shields in five minutes. Agreed?"

Mackenzie looked dubious, but slowly nodded. Danan wondered what sort of discipline Mackenzie would be in for after destroying a civilian merchant ship. She knew the punishment she would like to dispense. She smiled to herself. She might yet have that opportunity.

"Very well." Danan said, "You may begin boarding as soon as we drop shields."

The viewer went blank and Danan turned to Derrico, "Have all life pods launch in four and half minutes."

"Yes, sir." Derrico replied, tasting retribution in the air. He savoured the taste of it.

* * *

"The _Resolute_ is powering weapons." Data reported, "The _Fortitude_ is lowering shields, but weapons are coming on-line."

"Raise our shields and power weapons." Riker ordered.

* * *

"Are all pods ready?" Danan asked.

"Yes, sir!" Derrico replied.

Danan tapped her comm badge, "Tarrik, lock on to all personnel on the bridge and yourself. Transport on my command."

She took a look around the bridge, "Computer, initiate _Alamo_ protocol." Her mouth twisted into a bitterly ironic smile, "Authorisation phrase is, 'Resistance is futile'."

"Auto-destruct sequence engaged." The computer reported.

"One minute silent count-down." She ordered.

"This shall be the last warning. Self-destruct in one minute."

Danan turned to Derrico, "Lower shields." She tapped her comm badge, "Initiate transport."

Derrico, T'Kir, Grace, and Danan took one last look around as they disappeared in a shimmer.

* * *

"The _Fortitude_ is transporting personnel to the _Odyssey_." Data called out.

"What is the _Perseverance_ doing?"

"She is locking phasers," Data said apprehensively, "on us."

"Hail Guttman." Riker growled

"Sir!" Perim called out excitedly, "The _Odyssey_ is jettisoning her escape pods."

* * *

"What do you mean no one is aboard?" Ran snapped at Mackenzie via comm link.

"They've abandoned ship." She reported nervously, "Their escape pods are all headed for Earth."

Ran's eyes met Picard's, "Destroy them."

Picard flinched as Mackenzie sputtered, "Sir?"

"Destroy them, Captain." He commanded, his voice venomous.

"Aye, sir." She replied wearily.

Ran turned to Voos, "Has anyone tracked down Macen?"

Voos shook her head, but never took her eyes of her prisoners.

"Damn." Ran muttered.

* * *

"Captain," Data reported urgently, "The _Fortitude_ is locking phasers on to escape pods!"

"See if you can move to intercept." Riker told Perim.

* * *

The _Odyssey _exploded in a quiet orgasm of destruction. Her charges sent large pieces of shrapnel sailing into the _Fortitude_. Her navigational deflectors nearly collapsed under the strain of being assaulted with so much wreckage. Most of her main systems were knocked off-line as she convulsed in the _Odyssey's _death throes.

* * *

"Captain Guttman," Riker said calmly into viewer, "You have the chance to end this."

Guttman scoffed, "Trust me. I will."

"No one else has to die here." Riker protested.

Guttman nodded sadly, "Yes, they do. The past must be swept away to make room for the future." He cut transmission.

"What the hell does that mean?" Riker muttered.

* * *

The _Fortitude_ brought her shields up. The bridge was filled with smoke as Mackenzie stabilised her crew. She'd lost two dozen officers on that boarding party. She vowed they'd not die unavenged.

"Lock phasers on the life pods closest to Earth." She ordered robotically.

"Are you certain?" her First Officer asked.

"There has to be a reckoning." Mackenzie replied without feeling.

* * *

"The _Fortitude_ has just fired on three life pods." Data reported, "Destruction was complete."

"Lock phasers on the _Fortitude_." Riker snapped off, "Fire on my command."

* * *

"The _Enterprise, _the _Perseverance, _and the _Fortitude_ are all engaged in combat!" a tech shouted.

"Are you satisfied?" Picard asked scornfully.

"Not yet." Ran replied honestly, "When Macen is dead, I'll feel much better."

"And if he's already dead?" Picard asked.

"Then we are just being thorough." Ran replied as if discussing the death of a fly.

* * *

"Shields are down to sixty percent." The Ensign at Tactical announced.

"Fire quantum torpedoes." Riker ordered, "Perim, get us out of near orbit and give us some manoeuvring room."

"Aye, sir." She replied as she acted upon the order.

The ship shuddered as she took more fire. They were facing a _Miranda_-class and an _Akira_-class. Separately, neither vessel was as powerful as the _Sovereign_-class _Enterprise_. Together, however, even the ninety-year-old design of the _Miranda_ proved threatening.

Riker was about to order the ship to break for beyond lunar range at full impulse when the _Fortitude_ ceased her attack. Her shields were crackling with radiation as she shrugged off enemy fire. The smaller _Perseverance_ continued her harrying fire. Riker was trying to figure out what happened to the newer, more capable _Fortitude_ when he could see explosions puncturing her saucer section.

A small ship slipped past the reeling _Fortitude_. Phaser blasts streaked past it as it cartwheeled in space. The ship was headed for Luna when it turned end-over end and returned down its previous course. It opened fire on the _Fortitude._

Steady phaser blasts gave the ship away. It was a _Blackbird_-class starship. It was a Starfleet scoutship from the early 24th century. It was a sleek ship resembling a hybrid between a _Excelsior_-class and an _Ambassador_-class. It was tiny, almost the same size as a _Defiant_-class. Riker didn't know where this one came from, but he was grateful for its assistance.

"Data, which ship is that?" he asked.

Data activated his sensors and queried the ship's ID markers. The reply made him raise his eyebrows. He turned to face his commander with a look of confusion and surprise.

"It is the _S.S. Odyssey_, sir."


	10. Chapter 10

The transporter beams made the air shimmer and vibrate. Five forms materialised from the incandescent fire. Four of them looked about at their surroundings with some confusion. They appeared to have beamed into a cargo bay.

"Where are we?" Derrico asked, voicing the question on almost everyone's mind.

A fleeting smile crossed Danan's face, "We're on the _S.S. Odyssey_."

"That's not funny." Tarrik growled.

Danan turned to face the other officers, "It wasn't meant to be humorous. _This_ ship is the _Odyssey_."

"So what…what kind of ship is this?" Grace asked.

"It's a _Blackbird_-class." Danan replied with a shrug, "This is the ship Captain Macen, T'Kir and I commanded in the Maquis."

Derrico nearly choked, "This is a Maquis ship?"

Danan gave him a withering glare, "Yes, it is. This ship has saved thousands of lives during that service. I don't want to ever hear you disparage her, or her cause, in any way."

"Yes, sir." Derrico replied crisply.

Danan gave the others a cunning smile, "Then I suggest we get to the bridge and begin to use this ship for something useful."

The group quickly rushed out into the corridors. A handy map of the decks was posted on the wall. Their primary interests were on Decks 1 and 4. That would be the Bridge and Engineering. Tarrik would secure engineering. The rest would proceed to the bridge.

They reached the bridge, startling the two crewmen sitting there. They'd been left as caretakers until the ship was recalled into active duty. The sight of four armed Starfleet personnel bursting into the bridge was enough to thoroughly unnerve them. Danan could easily understand how the two had drawn such a pathetic assignment.

"Computer," she said aloud as Derrico escorted the two men to the rear of the bridge and "advised" them to stay quietly at the work table there, "initiate command release to Lt. Commander Lisea Danan, authorisation Expedition Kurzon Twelve."

"Command codes accepted." The computer chimed back.

Danan sat down comfortably in the command chair and activated her two display consoles. Grace went to the helm/ops station at the front of the bridge and began de-coupling procedures. Derrico hurried to Tactical, which sat to the right of the command chair, facing forward. T'Kir plopped down into the Science station, which was arranged like Tactical only on the left instead, and began running sensor diagnostics.

Derrico turned towards Danan with professional admiration on his face, "How'd you know...?"

Danan grinned, "Captain Macen discovered they'd put it in storage while we were searching the captured database from Gulag. He activated the command codes through subspace transmission while we were en route."

Derrico shook his head while grinning ear to ear. He returned his attention to his console, "Phaser banks are fully charged. Torpedo racks are stocked and ready. Shields are ready at your command."

"Understood." Danan acknowledged, "Helm?"

"I have cleared all moorings." Grace reported, "I have impulse engines and thrusters on-line."

Danan tapped her comm badge, "Tarrik, what's your status?"

"Engineering looks good." He replied, "I brought warp engines on-line. I could use another hand down here."

Danan nodded to herself, "You've got it." She turned to T'Kir, "You've just been elected."

"Why me?" T'Kir protested, and pointed at Grace, "Why not her?"

"You've more experience." Danan replied in a warning tone.

"Whatever." T'Kir muttered as she left her station, "You just don't like me."

Danan routed the sensors to one of her display. The other showed the ship's tactical data. The technical data on the _Blackbird_-class had revealed that the ship was designed to operate under "extreme conditions with minimal staffing". She wondered if her designers had ever contemplated going into battle with a crew of 5. It shouldn't be much of a stretch considering her normal complement of 22.

"Ahead one quarter impulse." Danan ordered.

"One quarter, aye." Grace replied quickly as her hands flittered across her controls.

"Increase speed to full impulse once we've cleared the orbital dock." Danan continued confidently, "Plot our course. Take us in an elliptical orbit to the other side of the planet."

She turned to Derrico, "Raise shields. Ready phasers and torpedoes."

The _Odyssey_ cleared her moorings and accelerated as she sped around the planet. She'd been parked in a high polar orbit. Her new course put her on an intercept course for the last known location of the _Fortitude_. Danan glanced down at her display and saw the three ships ahead of them. They were engaged in combat, two against the _Enterprise_.

"Lock phasers." Danan snapped off, "Fire at will."

The _Odyssey _dove in, phasers blazing.

* * *

"Another starship has engaged in the contest." A nervous tech reported.

"Which ship?" Ran hissed.

"The _Odyssey_, sir." The tech gulped.

"What?" Ran asked dumbfounded.

Picard and Drake both chose that moment to move. Drake hurled herself into Voos. Picard made for a nearby console. His fingers groped for the transport inhibitor controls. Finding them, he deactivated the inhibitors.

Ran yelled in rage and took aim for Picard. Another cry lifted as Jellico interposed himself between Picard and Ran. The phaser burst meant for Picard grazed the Admiral across the shoulder. Ran never had the opportunity to fire another as Starfleet Security officers beamed in behind him and fired.

A Security Lieutenant Commander pulled Voos off of Drake. He wrenched her arm behind her in a restraining hold. He gave Drake a bland smile. Drake gave him an appreciative pat on the shoulder as she focused her attention towards the Nerve Centre's techs.

"Patterson," she snapped, "I need an update!"

"A _Blackbird_-class has joined in the orbital skirmish." Patterson reported, "She has sided with the _Enterprise_."

"What is the ship's name?" Picard asked, having left Jellico to a medic.

"The _Odyssey_." Patterson reported ironically.

* * *

Macen had transported to the President's office only to find that the august representative had already departed to attend the Federation Council meeting. The Council met in the adjoining Chambers building. Alarms set off by his unauthorised transport were already sounding. He had to get to the Chambers quickly.

Macen stepped out of the office, past the startled secretaries and aides. He stepped out into the main corridor and saw several uniformed men approaching him. Their serious demeanours indicated a succinct unwillingness to discuss Macen's reasons for being there. He took a deep breath and readied himself for the battle that was about to occur.

Several minutes later, Macen was strolling down the corridor. The secretary occupying the room he'd thrown a Protective Services man into, through the transparent aluminium door was on her comm. He only stopped his march long enough to pick up a pair of phasers dropped by the men he had just incapacitated.

He'd studied the layout of the building during the long flight here from the Gulag. One level down was an access to the nearest sky bridge interconnecting the Chambers complex with the Office of the President. _That_ route would be blocked. However, he might still be able to get there from _this_ level.

Macen strode towards the enclosed balcony overlooking the bridge. A Services man lunged out of a corner at him from behind. Macen allowed the man to get one arm around his shoulders before thrusting his elbow into the man's mid-section. He finished the movement by sweeping the man's moving legs with one of his, and dipping his shoulder down.

The Services man fell to the floor. Macen kicked him square on the nose with his knee. The man went over backwards, his head hitting the duracrete floor. He went limp as unconsciousness overwhelmed him.

Macen bent down and retrieved another phaser. He calmly walked up to the balcony's enclosure. He thumbed the phaser's power setting to overload and walked away. Macen took cover behind a structural arch as the phaser's whine hit its crescendo.

A brilliant flash of light accompanied the phaser's detonation. Bolts of iridescent energy flashed down the corridor, resembling lightening. Several Services men approaching Macen's position were caught in the discharge's wake. They were knocked unconscious.

Macen removed himself from his shelter and approached the hole he had created in the outer wall of the building. He leapt across a corresponding hole in the sky bridge's ceiling. He began a jog and made for the other side of the bridge. He had to get there before the Service's agents could block his entry into the building.

He reached the end of the bridge without encountering opposition. He could see several agents yelling at him through the plastisteel windows. He ignored them and retrieved a piton launcher from his utility belt. He aimed for a balcony several stories above his position and fired.

The piton sank into the balcony. It formed a molecular bond with the balcony and held solidly. Macen attached the other end of the launcher to his belt and depressed the retrieval stud. He suddenly began an ascent upwards as the cable was shortening back into the launcher.

He stopped the cable when he was still several metres below the balcony. He fired a phaser at the wall, disintegrating it. He swung like a pendulum and released the launcher's connection to his belt when he had achieved sufficient momentum to reach the building. He landed on the floor, tucking into a roll.

Macen got to his feet and headed for the stairwell leading to the roof access. He ran up the stairs until he reached the roof. He slowly stepped out onto the roof with a phaser ready. Finding the way clear, he began a sprint across.

He was halfway across when two Type Nine shuttles streaked in towards him. They opened up with phaser fire. They barely missed him on either side. He stumbled and went down, rolling across the roof.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the searing pains coming from several joints and muscles. To his left was the dome that housed the Federation Council's meetings. Straight ahead and behind were angled drops, modelled after Gothic cathedrals. The shuttles were looping back for a second pass.

Macen adjusted the power setting on first one phaser, then another. He then steadied himself and prepared for his run. The shuttles came in much lower. They were only a hundred metres above the roof.

Macen aimed at the one on his right and fired both phasers at it. He had set the weapons to release their entire charge in a single blast. The shuttle's shields flickered and its flight path wavered. Macen threw the two phasers away and began a mad dash for the slope.

The two shuttles broke off and gained altitude. Macen leapt off the side and fell ten metres. He landed on the slick crystalline surface and began to slide. As he careened down the angled side of the building, he withdrew another piton launcher from his belt.

He clipped the line to his belt and waited for the moment to fire. He waited until seconds before he slid over the edge. He plummeted in freefall for several seconds before he stopped the line from playing out. The rope snapped taut and broke his fall in an awful snapping motion.

He bounced off the side of the building once. As he swung away from it, he pulled his pulsar pistol form his holster and fired several bursts into the wall. They created a gaping hole. Macen released the line and sailed in through the hole. He staggered to his feet and continued his march towards the Chambers.

* * *

The _Odyssey_ broke away from the _Fortitude. _She continued around the Earth's curve at full impulse. The beleaguered _Fortitude_ followed. She fired phaser bursts at the rapidly manoeuvring _Odyssey_. The targeting system couldn't lock on to the ship while it engaged in all of its evasive turns and jigs.

Danan smiled. She had _hurt_ the _Fortitude_. Her captain was a proud woman. She'd never let a gnat like the _Odyssey_ escape unpunished.

The simple fact that the _Odyssey's _phasers were nearly as powerful as the _Fortitude's _would never factor into that mental calculus. The smaller ship was manoeuvrable enough to literally fly circles around the larger ship, a fact it had demonstrated with skill. Nothing would succour Mackenzie's wounded pride except the defeat of her opponent by her hands.

Danan was counting on that reaction. Her plan depended upon it. They had set course straight for the massive Spacedock complex in orbit a bare seven thousand kilometres away. The _Fortitude_ was nicely co-operating by being led blindly by the nose.

"Spacedock is hailing." Grace announced.

"They want us to turn about." Dellico added.

"We will." Danan assured him, "Shortly."

She opened a comm channel to the _Fortitude_, "Once I clear Spacedock, I'll head out of system at full warp. Catch me if you can."

Derrico stared at her in bewilderment as she closed the channel. She shrugged while wearing an impish smile, "The old taunts are the best taunts."

"The _Fortitude_ is arming photon torpedoes." Derrico warned.

"Good." Danan said in satisfaction.

"Torpedoes away!" Derrico announced.

"Wait for it." Danan told Grace calmly. Seconds ticked by before she called out, "Evasive action, bring us about."

Grace nearly turned the _Odyssey_ up on its "end". She vectored the ship away from the atmosphere. The four torpedoes were unable to manoeuvre that tightly and sped past. Grace continued the loop and brought the ship around, with her primary weapons array aimed squarely at the _Fortitude._

Derrico fired the phasers. The staccato pattern of the phaser fire resembled ancient anti-aircraft fire. The _Odyssey_ maintained a four-second burst before vectoring off and leaving the _Fortitude _behind. The _Odyssey _was returning to aid the _Enterprise_, if she needed it. The _Fortitude_ had larger problems.

The torpedoes sailed past the _Odyssey_, and squarely into Spacedock's shields. Their primary weapons array was targeted on the _Fortitude_, and began firing as the _Odyssey_ broke off. Impulse sleds and fighters launched and surrounded the crippled starship. Mackenzie and her crew were out of the fight.

* * *

"The _Perseverance_ is signalling her surrender." Data informed Riker.

Riker grinned triumphantly. Once the _Enterprise_ only faced a single opponent, she'd quickly knocked the fight out of her enemy. The imminent return of the _Odyssey_ galvanised Captain Guttman into action. He assumed he stood a better chance with Riker than with whoever was in command of the _Odyssey_.

"Signal our acceptance." Riker told Data, "Then hail the _Odyssey_. I'd like to thank them for their timely intervention."

* * *

"The _Fortitude_ has attacked Spacedock." Patterson informed Drake and Picard, "They have returned fire and launched defence forces."

"Where is the _Odyssey_?" Picard asked.

"Rejoining the _Enterprise_, sir." Came the report, "The _Charleston _seems to have signalled her surrender."

"Very good." Picard replied in relief, then turned to Drake, "But, where in all of this is Captain Macen?"

"Where else?" Nechayev asked wearily from a communications console, "He's trying to break into the Federation Council Chambers."

"We must go there immediately!" Picard exclaimed.

Nechayev chuckled, "As usual, Captain, I'm already ahead of you. Transporter Six is waiting for us. We can beam directly to the Council floor."

* * *

The shuttles were circling back around. Two more shuttles came bearing in on the first two shuttles. The original shuttles turned and opened fire on the new arrivals. An aerial battle quickly erupted.

Macen didn't care. It provided a greater distraction for him. He continued down the corridor. Ahead, it reached a "T" junction. Just around the corner to the right, there should be a door that granted access into the Chamber's back anterooms.

Macen came to the junction and stopped he cautiously peered around the corner, weapon ready. The left was clear. He holstered his pistol and began to approach the door on the right. It opened.

Macen's hand flew to his pistol of its own accord. He had the weapon aimed and ready. The person facing him never flinched. The man was a Vulcan wearing ambassadorial robes.

"Your actions are illogical." The Vulcan informed him, "You must cease them immediately."

Macen kept his weapon trained on the Vulcan as he scornfully replied, "_My _actions are illogical? Where's the logic in deporting your citizens?"

The Vulcan remained unperturbed, "Their thinking was in error. They refused to see the fallacy of their logic. For the good of the many, they were removed."

Macen shook his head angrily, "That sound similar to the Cardassian Union."

The Vulcan's eyebrow rose, "It is a logical society. The state must prosper in order to provide stability for its citizens."

Macen snorted, "The only thing their state ever provided were endless wars to expand the borders."

"Nevertheless." The Vulcan replied calmly, "It also provided you with the cause and purpose to continue your life and in the Maquis you found a society to replace that which you lost to the Borg."

"We survived." Macen replied angrily, "By the mercy bestowed upon us by the Federation. I won't allow anyone to emulate the Borg by creating a place where dissent must be crushed to protect the fanatic dreams of an empowered few seeking their vision of 'perfection'."

"Our actions are in the name of the Federation as a collective whole." The Vulcan assured him.

"I will not be party to a system that _always _sacrifices the individual for the so-called 'collective'." Macen said is low, measured tones.

"I shall not let you pass." The Vulcan informed him.

"We'll see." Macen replied. He stepped forward. The Vulcan moved swiftly, trying to grasp the nerve bundle in Macen's neck.

The Vulcan's eyes widened. He staggered back and gazed down at his mid-section, where his heart had been. Now, only charred hole remained. He fell to the ground with a look of absolute shock on his face.

Macen keyed the door and it slid open. He entered warily, weapon poised. Before him stretched a hall with multiple doors. He slowly moved past them, expecting an ambush. He reached the door at the other end without incident.

This door opened and he repeated his previous approach. This time, he was at an observation deck above the Council floor. Below him, the rotunda seating all of the Council members circled the President. Macen saw that he wasn't alone.

He was male, slightly older and heavier than Macen. His thinning hair was already white. His blue eyes stared malignantly at Brin. The man stood there with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Persistent bastard, aren't you?" he asked Macen.

"No less than you, Tetran." Macen replied disdainfully.

Tetran Ridl laughed. His laugh was as venomous as his gaze. Macen had known Ridl for nearly two decades. He had been a commander in the Starfleet Reaction Forces. That was the division of the Starfleet Commandos that responded to the threat of "domestic" crisis."

Macen and Ridl had battled throughout their association. Ridl's arm snapped around from behind his back. Macen was growing weary. He'd allowed his arms to droop so that his pistol was pointed at Ridl's feet. He brought the gun back up to pointing at Ridl's chest. Ridl now had a gun pointed at his chest as well.

They stared at each other. Hate radiated from Ridl's eyes. Disgust and pity shone in Macen's. Neither gave quarter nor asked for it.

"You'll never kill me." Ridl mocked him.

Macen pulled the trigger. Ridl fell to the ground. He was dead before he hit the floor. Macen holstered his pistol. He left the observation lounge without a word.

* * *

Picard and Nechayev materialised in the middle of the Council Chambers. Dozens of members leapt to their feet. The President stepped off the podium towards them. His look of surprise matched that felt by all those in attendance.

"Admiral, Captain," he said softly, "how can I help you?"

"Actually," Nechayev replied wryly, "we're here to help you."

"With what?" the President asked, even more perplexed.

The Chamber doors flew open. Brin Macen stood there. His eyes blazed. He marched forward.

Macen's movements reflected the pain he felt. Anger was all that moved him forward. He marched straight towards the President. He purposefully ignored the stares of the Council members as he passed.

He similarly ignored Nechayev and Picard as he came to attention, "Mr. President. I have evidence you need to see."

"Evidence?" the President repeated uncertainly, "Why present it to me? Is it not proper to present such things to Starfleet Command?"

"Not in this case." Macen replied stiffly, "I have uncovered evidence of an illegal operation conducted and condoned by elements of Starfleet, an underground movement, and by members of the Federation Council itself."

"What?" the President exclaimed.

"Mr. President." Nechayev joined in, "Captain Macen is correct."

The President looked stricken. This was too soon after the conclusion of the war. How many crises was he supposed to deal with?

"What evidence do you have?" the President croaked.

"The complete list of conspirators and all activities." Macen reported.

"Lies!" An Andorian representative shouted, "He is a terrorist! He has assaulted Security Services in both the President's Office and here in the Chambers. He has killed people."

"How many have you killed?" Macen snarled, turning to face the Andorian. The intensity in the look of contempt he gave the bombastic alien caused the Councillor to shrink back into his seat. "How many people have you condemned in order to justify your sense of superiority? How many lives have paid for you to be able to smugly sit here and feel that you're leadership is the greatest thing for your people?"

Silence resumed as Macen's last words echoed across the hall. His derisive snort echoed across the hall.

"There is no escape." Macen said sweeping his arm across the room, "We have you. We have _all_ of you."

He turned to the President. He reached into a pouch in his belt and withdrew a data record chip. He handed it to the President.

"This is the evidence." Macen said without emotion, "Do what you need to do."

He turned and strode out of the Chamber. He held his head up proudly. He was satisfied. His duty had been done, justice would prevail. The only concern he had now was contacting his ship and checking on his crew…his _people_.

* * *

Three weeks later, Macen stood before Admirals Nechayev, Drake, and Jellico. He was wearing his standard uniform again. Jellico had made a snide comment regarding Macen's refusal to wear the Command Department's colour, but he'd subsided after Nechayev kicked him under the table. This was the last hearing into the events that had led to the destruction of the "_Odyssey_" and to the deaths of several Starfleet personnel in orbit. He had already been cleared of his actions by Protective Services.

"It is the finding of this board that Commander Brin Macen is not culpable for the events listed in the articles of inquiry." Nechayev announced.

Macen grinned at that announcement. The only factor in the investigation that he'd feared might leverage it against him was Jellico's involvement. Having discussed the Admiral's line of questioning with his Senior Staff, he'd lost that fear. After that, it was just sitting through the tedium.

Jellico rose and approached Macen. He extended his hand.

"Congratulations." He said gruffly, then left.

Macen turned back to Nechayev and Drake. Nechayev motioned for him to sit in the chair before the table they sat behind. He complied and waited. Nechayev reviewed the data on a padd.

She sat the padd down and stared straight at him, "We shall now discuss the future of your command."

"I assumed I would resume command of the _Odyssey_." Macen replied.

"That's essentially correct." Nechayev responded, "There will be some changes."

Macen's expression became uneasy, "What kind of changes?"

Nechayev chuckled softly, "Personnel mostly. You submitted several recommendations before the informal inquiry, and now I have time to tell you what my decisions were."

Macen shifted in his seat as he prepared for the worst.

Nechayev ignored Macen's triumphant smile as she continued, "Regarding brevet Lieutenant Junior Grade T'Kir, her temporary rank as been revoked. She may remain in your custody _provided,_" Nechayev paused, hammering the last word, "Provided that she does not display any more bouts of instability."

Macen nearly cheered as Nechayev pointed a finger at him sternly, "T'Kir will be supervised. In fact, most of the former Maquis are being released. Any infractions or excessively irregular behaviour and they shall be remanded into custody. That includes T'Kir."

Macen nodded. His head spinning as Nechayev resumed, "Lt. Commander Danan will retain her current assignment as your Science Officer."

Macen was filling giddy, but stifled the impulse to show it, "Of your current senior officers, only one has requested to stay aboard. Doctor Kort will remain under your command . Many of the junior officers requested to stay aboard. Some of their requests will be granted."

Macen felt some disappointment, but it was overshadowed by the glow of his victories, "Furthermore, the _Odyssey_ will be sent to Planetia Utopia to be stripped down for parts."

"Wait a minute!" Macen protested, "You can't do that. She's _my_ ship."

"Yes." Nechayev agreed, "You are retaining command of her."

Macen shook his head, "Not that like that. I _own_ her."

Nechayev gave him a thin smile, "Commander, the _Odyssey_ was returned to the fleet upon your..._return_. She's the property of Starfleet."

"You stole my ship?" he growled.

"It was assigned to you only for the tenure of your assignment with the Maquis." Nechayev corrected.

"What do you want?" Macen asked in resignation.

Nechayev motioned towards Drake. "Admiral Drake is now your direct superior. She will be overseeing your entire Division."

"What Division?" Macen asked.

"A new one." Nechayev replied cryptically, "Assigned to trouble shooting crises."

Macen's eyebrows rose, "_Trouble shooters?_"

Nechayev sighed, "Surely this episode has proven that we need specialists in dealing with emergency situations and special investigations? More directly, specialists that can and will operate outside the normal parameters of Starfleet?"

"Certainly, but…" Macen began, "But what exactly the parameters of such an assignment be?"

"It's a joint venture between Internal Affairs and Intelligence." Drake answered, "Recent events have shown Command that we're losing touch with operational realities."

"You can say that again." Macen muttered.

"Excuse me?" Drake asked sharply. Nechayev suppressed a grin and glared instead.

Macen at least _appeared_ contrite, "Sorry."

"As I was saying," Drake began again, "Command is realising that a lot is going on out there, and in our own fleet, that we don't know about. The bureaucracies have grown too large for our current organisations and institutions to keep track of. We need something new, a new perspective."

"So why me?" Macen asked warily, "I don't exactly abide by the rules."

"You're perfect for the job." Drake admitted ruefully, "You have little respect for ingrained thinking, or the ponderous inflexibility of red tape. You all want to change the galaxy? Well, here's your chance."

"Sounds nice, but a little too neat." Macen commented, "What's the catch?"

"This is also the easiest way to keep tabs on you." Drake admitted, "You're too stubborn to give up on your damn quest to change Starfleet. This is the best way to insure that we'll know if you're about to start another armed rebellion."

Macen sighed, "It wasn't a rebellion."

Drake smiled, "I know that, Commander. It was a group of homesteaders fighting to preserve the homes they'd carved out for themselves." Seeing his surprise, she shrugged, "My ancestors fought on the colonial side of the Argusian civil war."

Macen was familiar with this titbit of Terran history. Argus VI had been settled by a group of humans over two hundred years ago. When the Romulan war broke out, the colonists were ordered to evacuate. They refused. After the war, several ships from Earth were dispatched to deport the settlers. They refused to be deported. Six months of intense fighting broke out, only to be resolved by granting Argus independence and allowing it to sign the original Federation Charter.

Drake read the surprise in his eyes, "I understood the Maquis. I also disapproved of many of their methods."

"I won't argue with you there." Macen allowed.

"Having heard the details, will you join us?"

Macen rubbed his chin, "It's tempting, but it still sounds too good to be true."

"You'd rather be poking around the galaxy looking for a new planet for the Maquis survivors to settle down on." Nechayev finished dryly, waving her hand at him.

"So you say now." Nechayev snorted, "And then you'll go crazy because you didn't accept my offer."

"I doubt it. I've had enough problems with Section 31 without trying to steal their job description" Macen snorted sourly, "So what about my ship?"

"What about your assignment?"

"You can blow it out of the nearest airlock, _sir_."

"Really?" Nechayev asked disdainfully, "And you think this will help you in your career?"

"My career in Starfleet ended five years ago." Macen flatly answered. He reached for two padds that sat in the seat next to him. He picked them up and carried them over to the Admirals. He sat them down in front of Nechayev.

"And this would be?"

"My retirement papers." He explained, "And Lisea Danan's resignation."

"Is this your final decision?"

"Yes." Nechayev heard the steel in his reply.

"Very well." She shrugged, "Your requests will be refused immediately."

"What?" He shouted suddenly.

Nechayev gave him a cool, appraising glance, "Starfleet is handling the repatriation of the Maquis. The colonies are being re-established as a Federation Protectorate. If you are looking for a place to be 'needed', it's right here Commander."

"Brin," Nechayev said with sigh, "you're one of my best. Both the Federation and Starfleet are at crossroads now that the war is over. I, _we_, can't afford to let you go now. I'm asking you again, will you accept the offer?"

"Thank you, Admiral." Macen replied quietly, "I think I will."

Nechayev's face nearly fell. She waved him away. "Get out. Leave now. If you start being proper now, I'll have you arrested."

He threw her a cocky salute, "That'll never happen." He turned serious again.

"So what happens next?" he asked.

"T'Kir will undergo an advanced training program to bring her up to speed on Starfleet protocols. She'll also be observed and treated at that time. It should take three months. That will coincide with the approximate time it will take to refit your ship."

She shot Macen a glare warning him not to gloat, "The rest of you will be assigned to the Academy as temporary lecturers."

Macen smirked and Nechayev scowled, "Don't do it Brin. This isn't an opportunity for you to mangle cadet's minds."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Macen smirked.

"Just leave." Nechayev firmly ordered, "And take that rabble loitering on the plaza steps with you."

Macen stepped out into the plaza stretching out in front of Starfleet Command. Danan, Kort, and T'Kir stood together. They all looked nervous as he approached. He came toward them, his face a stony masque.

They saw the glower on his face and fell silent. No one spoke for several heartbeats.

Danan broke the silence, "What did they say?"

"What do you think?" he replied sourly, "They want to assign us to a new ship, and they tried to recruit me into a new service division."

"What kind of division?" T'Kir asked suspiciously.

"Flying around kicking Federation hind end." Macen replied, "They want us to do what we do best: annoy lazy, corrupt bureaucrats, outwit Starfleet officers and generally wreak havoc. We'd be the first agents of a new joint Starfleet Division created by Intelligence and Internal Affairs."

"What did you tell them?" Danan asked with a hint of worry in her voice.

"I told them it was about time they let us loose and that we would've done that with or without their permission." He grinned, "So, they're keeping us together despite their better judgment."

It took several minutes for his words to sink in. They stared at him while they tried to digest what they'd heard. Danan figured it out first and laughed happily, hugging him fiercely. Ignoring T'Kir's wounded look, Macen broke into a laugh and the others relaxed and thought about the implications of their new assignment. It was a heady prospect. They enjoyed the moment, knowing it was only the first of many yet to come.


End file.
